


No Loose Ends, a love story told in 4 months

by friendlybomber



Series: Teagan and Ethelan [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Redcliffe, Slow Build, a little bit of ptsd, a lotta bit of cute romance stuff, a surprising amount of shakespeare references tbh, copious amounts of flirtation, depressed character, post-alistair/mahariel, previous alistair/mahariel, warden/nathaniel howe best friends forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: Quest Updated:Trouble with BanditsA large number of bandits are making the road around Redcliffe Village unsafe for travelers. Arl Teagan has asked Warden-Commander Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae for aid.Three years after the Fifth Blight, the Hero of Ferelden and Teagan Guerrin do a whole lot more than flirt in a chantry.NOW WITH ART!!





	1. Part 1: Return to Redcliffe DLC

**Author's Note:**

> I love what you can do with games. I love the narrative style. I love the quests and the companions and the ludicrous combat capabilities and the plot armor and the feeling that you accomplished something in the end. I just love it.
> 
> So, presenting the Return to Redcliffe DLC, set one year after Witch Hunt. A continuation of the Warden’s story, this DLC gives the player access to a whole new adventure based around the reconstruction of Redcliffe, and the opportunity to explore a romance with four previously un-romanceable companions.  
> Guess which one I picked. Go on. Read the tags and guess.
> 
> If you want, check out the prequel fic, "through the spaces of the dark”. You don’t have to read that one to understand this one, but if you want the nitty-gritty details of Mahariel’s and Teagan’s one night in Denerim, go ahead and check that out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you go back  
> All the second selfless days  
> You're in love with him  
> I want to see you again  
> I love you...  
> But what are we going to do?  
> \- “Every Planet We Reach is Dead”, Gorillaz
> 
>  
> 
> Please read Ethelan with the mealiest, culchiest Derry accent you can possibly imagine. Thank you, and enjoy.

 

Quest Updated:

**Trouble with Bandits**

A large number of bandits are making the road around Redcliffe Village unsafe for travelers. Arl Teagan has asked Warden-Commander Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae for aid.

 

The road from Amaranthine to Redcliffe might have been just a little longer if the month of Guardian had not made the conscious decision to lighten up for just a few days. The wonderful part of Amaranthine was that most bandits were not entirely mad during the darkest winter months; the sea winds of the north were far too cold for the usual slurry of outlaws and charlatans. That was not to say that they weren’t there at all – they were, and they were hunger-driven and desperate, but most were stowed away somewhere warmer until the sun decided to poke its way through the slush again.

That particular day around Lake Calenhad, however, was brighter and warmer than most of its kind, and Ethelan and Nathaniel were consequently more watchful. Beneath their heavy furs and knitted scarfs, their uniform armor sat ready to absorb the blows of anyone stupid enough to jump two seasoned Grey Wardens. Ethelan was bad at vigilance but good at reacting; Nathaniel kept a cautious eye out for any trouble on the well-travelled road, and she thumbed her arrows absentmindedly.

The two Wardens crested a hill, and Nathaniel turned to look back in the direction from where they had come. Ethelan dipped her boot into a puddle of snow still clinging to the brown grass. The air in the Hinterlands was clearer than it was in Amaranthine, and it had a certain way of cutting to the lungs the way no knife ever could.

“Redcliffe should only be a short ways off,” Ethelan said. She shot a scrying look toward the pale winter sun. “We’re making good time. Less bandits around Lake Calenhad than Teagan’s letter would have suggested.”

“We should still be careful,” Nathaniel said. “The closer we get to civilization, the more likely we are to be jumped by desperate farmers.”

“Oh, Teagan’s not _that_ inhospitable,” Ethelan joked.

“I meant bandits,” Nathaniel said. He looked around the area as if he expected ruffians to emerge from every tree. “I don’t particularly feel like taking a knife to the ribs today.”

"Then we better keep moving,” Ethelan said, “and hope we get to the village before trouble gets to us.”

They pressed on ahead, following the road through the highlands and inconspicuous farmland. Time had no effect on the wild parts of Ferelden. The brown and the muck looked exactly the same as it did three years ago when Ethelan had first passed that way through the south. She was new to the Wardens then; her clan had never strayed this far towards human settlements. That was a shame. As she and Nathaniel climbed a gentle sloping hill, the peaks of Redcliffe Village rose into view.

Few villages were as idyllic as Redcliffe. Perhaps it was not the most well-built settlement, or the best organized one, but it possessed a certain charm that creaked from the walls of its rustic huts. The lake lapped at its shores and stirred the air around the village in a gentle push and pull. The people here were simple, but they were plainly Fereldan. It was a captivating little village, and it made Ethelan feel like she had a sense of home.

The path to the castle wound in less proximity to the village proper than Ethelan would have preferred. Still, though her feet dragged, she reminded herself that she would be able to walk amongst the people again in a little while, after she and Nathaniel met with Teagan and got down to business. Their presence did not go unnoticed, however; several faces looked up at their arrival, and recognition dawned in the eyes of a few of the adults. Some of them had fought with her three years ago. Hers was a face they would not forget.

It was here that Alistair had once told her he loved her. It had not been so cold then, and the sky had been a brilliant shade of gold. Gloaming brought the undead, but before that, it was simply the two of them over the village and under the stars.

Ethelan’s feet were heavy and cold like blocks of ice the entire way up to the castle.

“Commander,” Nathaniel said. She looked at him. They were following a servant into the main hall. She could not recall the past few minutes. “Come to. Are you alright?”

“I’m cold,” she murmured. Nathaniel frowned.

The main hall was dressed in warm, aggressively Fereldan tones, and so, as it so happened, was Teagan. He, too, seemed hardly changed by the years. He was, as Ethelan was painfully aware, handsome, charming, and not-so-secretly robust under a veneer of good manners. What’s more, he was kind, and funny, and had this wicked way with his tongue that still sent her toes curling at the memory. She flexed her jaw to drive off those thoughts. He smiled at them and opened his arms in welcome.

“It’s good to see you, my friend,” he said, as if the last time they had seen each other hadn’t resulted in chains of purple bruises blossoming across day-old skin. “And I welcome you and your companion to Redcliffe Village.”

“Introductions,” Ethelan said. “Nate, this is Arl Teagan – previously Bann Teagan, which rolls off the tongue better.” Teagan certainly knew a thing or two about rolling off the tongue. She mentally slapped herself. “Teagan, please meet Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe.”

The men bowed courteously to each other. Undoubtedly, both had heard a great deal about the other from Ethelan through the years, but they had never met in person until that moment. She was sure to receive two separate and yet eerily similar comments later regarding the accuracy of her descriptions.

“Thank you for agreeing to help,” Teagan said. “I understand you have many much more important matters to attend to in Amaranthine-”

“Hah, no,” Ethelan snorted. “Mostly just doing there what we’re doing here: training soldiers, fighting bandits. They’re a smaller problem there than they are here. We’re honored to play a role again in keeping Redcliffe safe.”

“If that is true, it does not undermine the significance of your visit,” Teagan pressed. “Redcliffe is eternally grateful for the Grey Wardens’ aid. Did you run into any trouble on the road?”

“A suspicious lack of trouble, actually,” Ethelan replied. “Not a bandit in sight.”

Teagan looked troubled. “I cannot say that is a bad thing, but it is unusual. As I wrote to you before, the winter has brought out the worst of men. The arling has seen a drastic rise in banditry, especially near the village itself.”

“Surely Redcliffe is defensible against bandits,” Nathaniel ventured. “The village that stood against a demon army of undead?”

“These bandits are soldiers,” Teagan explained. “They defected from various services over the past several years. Bannorn men who no longer have any cause to fight, city guards and king’s men who feel disenfranchised in the days following the Blight. That, mixed with the harsh winter and the crop failure during harvest, has stirred up trouble along Lake Calenhad.”

“We can lead the militia against the bandits,” Ethelan said. “They should already have a strong base, and Nathaniel and I are used to training men to fight small shock groups. We can use that against the bandits. Nate, you think we could drive them out?”

Nathaniel considered this. “We would have to see the bulk of their numbers, but if everything you’ve told me about the Redcliffe militia is true, we shouldn’t have a problem defeating a few groups of bandits. If the men are hungry, though, we may face more of a challenge.”

Ethelan nodded. “Shall we get started then? No time to waste.”

The Redcliffe militia was stronger than it had been in previous years, but it was still not an army, and it was still not well-fed. The men wore leather plates not unlike the kind Alistair used to wear, and beneath their too-big helmets, their faces were pale and gaunt. Ethelan had seen that look in her clan’s eyes a hundred times before. As Nathaniel lined up the militia for a precursory inspection, Ethelan drew Teagan to the side.

“Hunting isn’t good,” she stated. He was leaning in towards her to hear, and she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Until today, it’s been a harsh winter,” he explained. “The lake has been frozen for nearly a month. Our hunters are struggling to bring back game.”

“No wonder your militia isn’t doing well against the bandits,” Ethelan said. “They’re starving. The Dalish can survive any winter without having to trade with other clans or human settlements. I can help your hunters out.”

He smiled meaningfully at her, and his hand clasped her shoulder warmly. “Thank you, Commander. You’re too kind.”

Her tongue would not work, so she simply nodded. He squeezed her shoulder quickly before dropping his hand and walking away. She could feel the individual spots where his fingers had pressed long after he left.

She rejoined Nathaniel, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back waiting for her. He lifted an eyebrow at her, then at Teagan, but said nothing.

“What are we working with, Nate?” Ethelan asked.

“They’ve got discipline, I’ll give them that,” Nathaniel reported. “Most of them know who they’re fighting and how to do it. But they’re cold, and they’re hungry, and there are quite a few boys among their numbers that don’t know how to hold a sword. All in all, it’s just about exactly what we expected.”

Ethelan nodded. “Bandits will ambush travelers. To keep the Imperial Highway safe around Redcliffe, we need to take a few measures. First, we need to train you lot to fight these particular bandits. I want to take a small detail out into the field today to gauge the methods and fighting style these men employ. Second, we need to station guards along the road from morning to evening to protect travelers. Warden-Constable Nathaniel and I did not see any bandits along the road today, but if what Arl Teagan says is true, and I trust him, then we will need to be thorough. Understood?”

“Warden-Commander,” said a grizzled old man. He stepped out of line and bowed. “I am Captain Hylan. I lead the militia. If we are sending out a scouting detail, I know these men better than most. I can give you names, and focus on training the rest while you’re away.”

“Good man,” Nathaniel said. He glanced over at Ethelan. “Small group, I think, disguised as travelers. We’ll need scrappy men who look weak.”

“Two plus, say, three?” Ethelan said to Hylan. “You know the tactics of these bandits better than we do, but the Warden-Constable and I are both primarily archers. That being said, he can use a sword if he has to, and well. Bearing that in mind, if you have anyone else who fits his description, that would be most ideal.”

Hylan nodded. “Mikha, Dannon, Bron. Go with the Grey Wardens.”

Three militiamen stepped out of line. The first two were older men who had undoubtedly fought with Ethelan three years ago. They looked aged, but Ethelan could tell they were still strong and capable. The last was a boy, his face still bare. He was smaller than most of the other militiamen, but on his back he carried a sword and shield, and he must have been capable if Hylan had chosen him. Ethelan nodded in approval at the choices, then turned to Teagan.

“You know what you’re doing,” she said. “I see now why you haven’t been able to manage this on top of everything else. We’ll try not to stir up too much trouble on your land.”

“Come back alive,” he said. He narrowed his eyes in a mischievous smile. “I doubt you’ll have any problems with that.”

“Is that an order from the arl?” she teased. “You know, I’ve disobeyed nobles before.”

He took a step closer and opened his mouth to respond, but Nathaniel cleared his throat. They separated as if struck by lighting and looked away sheepishly.

“Good luck,” Teagan muttered.

“Thank you,” she responded quickly.

“You three, follow the Grey Wardens,” Hylan ordered. “The rest of you, we’re running training by the lakeside. Move out.”

As the men slouched away from the chantry and down to the lake, Ethelan regarded the three militiamen in front of her. “Right. We will need time to prepare. The idea is to look like travelers, but still be protected should face the hostile sort of trouble. Meet back at this spot in one hour, and then we’ll head out.”

The group splintered, with the militiamen heading toward their respective homes and the two Wardens following Teagan back up to the castle. They had shed their furs earlier for favor of their armor alone, but now they would have to make themselves inconspicuous again. With all this changing and pretending, Ethelan almost felt like a noble.

 

Quest Updated:

**Vir Tanadhal**

Redcliffe’s hunters are struggling to bring home food for their families. Ethelan offered to teach them Dalish tactics to survive the winter.

 

“Reconstruction, hunger pangs, bandit attacks, plus regular old arling stuff,” Ethelan was listing as she wrapped a ratty brown shawl around her midsection. “It’s a wonder he has any time to breathe.”

“Yes, Warden-Commander,” the servant said meekly. “The arl is a very busy man.”

“Must’ve been why he was in Denerim last month,” Ethelan muttered. “He wanted to speak to Alistair about the situation in Redcliffe. Of course, Alistair _wasn’t there_. Bastard.”

“Yes, Warden-Commander.”

She paused, halfway up lacing a fur-lined coat over her armor. “’Why would Teagan ask the _Wardens_ for help?’ I kept asking myself that. It’s because the crown is too busy fondling his own balls to help out his uncle.” She barked a short laugh. “Figures. Ah, I’m sure he’s got plenty of important things to do. He’s not a bad man. There must be a reason he can’t help Redcliffe. Still, it seems odd that Teagan turned to me.”

There came a knock at the door. Ethelan nodded in response to the servant’s inquisitive look, and the girl pulled the door open. Teagan appeared in the doorway. He dismissed the servant and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“What if I was undressed?” Ethelan accused teasingly. “You would’ve still just let yourself in?”

“Perhaps,” he smirked. “Only if you would let me.”

She looked away, chewing on her bottom lip. “I have to head back out soon.”

“That’s why I came to talk to you now.” He crossed over to her, but maintained a respectful distance. She finished lacing up her coat and dropped her arms, gazing at him.

“I was just wondering,” she said, “why you asked the _Grey Wardens_ for help, of all people. I assume Alistair has exhausted his ability to do anything for the arling, but I can’t figure why you asked for _our_ help. Surely a mercenary company or your old bannorn could offer aid.”

He considered this. “The soldiers at Vigil’s Keep are well-trained, and we would do well to have a stronger militia, especially as Redcliffe becomes of more and more political importance in Ferelden. The people here respect you. They remember you. An appearance by the very woman who saved their lives three years ago, or even just her order, would boost morale. That, and if I was so lucky as to have you come in person, I would be able to see you again.”

Ethelan narrowed her eyes and smiled. “You wanted to see me again?”

He drew back, that glint still in his eyes. “I made an excuse to come to your room, did I not? I think it’s obvious that I want to see you again.”

“I seem to recall,” she said, “you saying something about not wanting to continue our little-”

There came another knock at the door. Ethelan and Teagan pulled back from each other, exchanging a glance. Nathaniel’s muffled voice floated into the room. “Commander, are you ready yet?”

Ethelan gave Teagan a significant look and moved closer to the door. “Just about,” she called. “Just let me gather my things.”

He watched her as she finished lacing her boots and slung her quiver onto her shoulder, saying nothing. As she glided past him on her way out, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her arm. She paused, but did not turn towards him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. She let out a shaky breath.

“Come back alive,” he murmured.

She nodded, and slunk from the room.

 

Quest Updated:

**A Little Distraction**

Teagan seems interested in continuing the affair he and Ethelan started in Denerim a month ago. Speak to him at night in Redcliffe Castle.

 

By the time the detail regrouped in front of the chantry, the wind had turned frigid again. The invisible mark on Ethelan’s forehead burned against the cold. The two older men, Mikha and Dannon, wore thin furs only slightly more worn than Ethelan’s. Their swords were slung on their backs, and they almost looked the part of wary travelers. The third member, Bron, whom Ethelan had assumed to be a boy earlier, was actually a young woman dressed in dark hunter’s leathers and a heavy fur shawl. She nodded to Ethelan as she approached, thin lips pursed.

“Warden-Commander, if I might speak,” she said. She could not have been much older than Ethelan. “I find it troubling that you didn’t see no bandits on your trip to Redcliffe. I think they might’ve moved east to Lothering during the snowstorm, and will be making their way back west along the Imperial Highway when the weather clears up.”

“Come off it, Bron,” Dannon said. “The Warden-Commander don’t have time for your gut feelings.”

“Why do you think this?” Ethelan asked. “Have you heard something?”

“No, Commander,” Bron said. “But since the snowstorm we haven’t seen the bandits at all. My sister’s in Lothering, helping rebuild, and she says the bandits sometimes come through and muss things up for them. They cycle along the Highway from here to Lothering, so if they were towards the east when the storm hit, they might’ve been forced to stay there.”

Ethelan glanced at Nathaniel. “Sounds reasonable to me. What do you think?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “If we don’t see any bandits, we’ll have our answer. Something tells me they didn’t just get bored and move on.”

“Warden-Commander,” Dannon interjected. “Bron don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s been trying to send the militia to Lothering since the bandits first appeared.”

“The snow is melting,” Nathaniel remarked. “If she’s right, we may see bandits the farther east we go. We don’t have all day to travel, though.”

“It can’t hurt to go out today in search of bandits,” Ethelan said. “If we see none, we can ask Teagan – Arl Teagan, sorry – to send a letter to Lothering to inquire about the bandits.” She squinted. “Have you told Captain Hylan that the bandits are sometimes seen in Lothering?”

“Yes, Commander,” Bron said. “He says the Redcliffe militia shouldn’t leave the arling.”

"He’s right,” Dannon said. “It’s not our job to march into someone else’s land and clear out a few ruffians.”

“But we could cut the problem off once and for all!” Bron protested.

“This is more than I bargained for,” Ethelan grumbled. “I don’t like how big a problem these bandits are. Something tells me they’re either more than simply desperate deserters, or more trouble than they’re worth.”

“The more we talk about it, the more daylight we lose,” Nathaniel said. “We should get moving.”

 

Quest Updated:

**Trouble with Bandits**

A large number of bandits are making the road around Redcliffe Village unsafe for travelers. Arl Teagan has asked Warden-Commander Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae for aid. Bron thinks the bandits have ties to Lothering.

 

The detail headed out along the Imperial Highway the way Ethelan and Nathaniel had come earlier. Ethelan couldn’t help but feel suspicious about the bandits. Teagan had said in his letter that they were tough, but that their activity was mostly localized around Redcliffe Village itself. Redcliffe was struggling in the winter, and needed better guidance than Hylan could offer or Teagan had time for. Bron’s information, however, seemed to differ from the arl’s story. Ethelan trusted Teagan, but she also trusted the little people to keep their ears to the ground. Bron’s information may have been more accurate that Teagan’s.

Images from that night one month ago flashed in front of her eyes. His mouth on hers, hungry and searching, his hands pulling her body closer, closer, his hips rolling into hers—She shook her head slightly to clear away the thoughts. Her cheeks felt hot. She could still feel his lips pressed to her temple.

“Thinking about Arl Teagan, are you?” Nathaniel’s voice breathed in her ear. She flinched violently.

“What are you talking about?” Ethelan hissed.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, squeezing her shoulders with his gauntlets. “But you’re blushing like a little girl.”

“Leave me alone,” she snapped. “Shouldn’t you be watching for bandits?”

He hummed and practically skipped away, if he was the type to skip anywhere. She growled and fanned her face, wishing desperately for the cold air to freeze her right out of her skin.

“Are you alright, Warden-Commander?” asked Mikha.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled. “Let’s just move on.”

They followed the Imperial Highway, looking out over the lake that snaked along its side beneath the cliffs. Although the snow had melted a bit, long stretches of the path were still coated in a frozen slush. The only tracks they saw were those of animals. However, as they broke off the Highway to traverse around a crumbled section and approached a small hill about two hours away from Redcliffe Village, Nathaniel held up a hand to halt the party.

“Bootprints,” he said. “Over there, around the hill.”

“I hear voices,” Ethelan said. “Be quiet.”

The detail stood frozen and listened. Sure enough, two voices drifted up over the hill.

“-bad place to set up,” the first voice was saying. “We can’t hear if someone’s coming up over that hill.”

“Just shut up and be ready to go,” the other snapped. “We may well see someone out on road today.”

“Think we’ll get anything useful off them, though? Ooh, maybe we’ll get lucky and find the arl. He’s rich, innit?”

“Why would we see the arl? You idiot!”

“Ow! The arl travels!”

Nathaniel drew his bow and leaned his head in towards the detail. “I say we let them think they have us trapped. That way, we can see how they would attack normal travelers.”

Ethelan nodded. “Can you three hold off an assault if Nathaniel and I go around for a flank?”

“No problem,” Dannon said. He flexed his hand. “I’m eager to give these low-lives the what-for.”

“Stay close, Bron,” Mikha said. “Don’t take any risks.”

“I’m not a child,” Bron snapped. “I can handle myself. We’re ready when you are, Commander.”

“Give us a moment to get into position,” Ethelan said. “Then, make them think you’re travelers. I want to see this as it happens.”

She and Nathaniel crept as quietly as they could through the snow towards the right of the hill, hiding behind the dense wild underbrush. The bandits took no notice of their shifting position. They had almost settled into a suitable place when the three militiamen crested the hill, and the bandits sprang to action.

The first bandit placed his hands on the second’s shoulders, jostling her around and growling something inaudible. The woman protested, trying unsuccessfully to push him away. She spotted the travelers and called to them for help. Ethelan was almost impressed at the set-up. She had seen it work before.

Dannon called for the man to desist. The man pulled a knife and held it to the woman’s throat. She began to cry. The travelers drew their swords and advanced towards the bandits.

There came a rustle somewhere in the trees behind them. Ethelan froze, but Nathaniel did not seem to hear it. He knocked an arrow, preparing to move out of the underbrush, but Ethelan thrust out a hand to still him. Then, he heard it too. They spun around just in time to see the pommel of a sword swinging down at them. They rolled away, and Nathaniel stuck out a leg to trip their accoster.

The man crashed to the forest floor. Ethelan swung her bow to hit a second bandit low in the stomach. He faltered with a grunt and slashed a knife at her head. She pulled backwards and placed a firm kick to his groin. He stumbled, and she pinned him to the ground, delivering a few solid punches to his face. Nathaniel buried his fist in her coat and pulled her backwards just in time to avoid receiving an arrow to the face.

The man Nathaniel had been fighting lay slumped against a tree root, an arrow buried to the fletching in his shoulder. His hand grappled along the ground for his sword, but Ethelan kicked it out of the way as the third bandit came into view, his bowstring pulled taut and ready to shoot. Ethelan ducked low and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was too small to knock him over, but he was surprised just enough to allow Nathaniel to rip the bow from his hands and plant a shattering blow to his jaw. The bandit howled and wrapped his hands around Ethelan’s throat, and she kicked out to separate herself from him. Nathaniel buried an arrow in the bandit’s helmet, and he sunk to the ground.

Ethelan whipped her head around to check on the militiamen. They were cutting down the woman just as she laid her eyes on them, but Mikha was clutching an arrow in his shoulder. Ethelan groaned. There was another archer. She looked around, but they were nowhere to be found.

Nathaniel’s bowstring sounded, and Ethelan looked back. The bandit she had knocked over moments earlier writhed for a second before lying still, an arrow shot through his chest.  Nathaniel wiped the sweat from his brow, panting.

“That’s the last of them,” he said. “Reinforcements. We cut off the ambush only to have it fall on us instead.”

“There’s one more archer,” Ethelan said. “I can’t see them.”

As she said it, an arrow soared through the air from the opposite side of the road and planted itself in the ground at Bron’s feet. The two Grey Wardens nodded at each other and charged from the underbrush, separating and wrapping around opposite sides of the militiamen’s battlefield. Ethelan thought of it as a little race; Nathaniel’s legs were longer, but she was a hunter and a ranger, and she could move through underbrush faster than him. They saw the archer at the same time and slowed into a walk as they both knocked an arrow.

The bandit’s eyes flickered between them. He licked his lips nervously.

“Don’t shoot,” he stammered. “I’ll surrender.”

The warriors appeared before him, led by Bron. She tensed when she saw the bandit, and took a menacing step toward him.

“Let me kill him,” she said.

The bandit hastily laid his bow on the ground in front of him and lifted his hands in the air. “No! I’ll surrender, yeah? It’s all good. See? Just, let me go, please. I’m just a nobody. Just trying to make a living. Please don’t kill me.”

Nathaniel shot Ethelan a cool look. “Isn’t this how you recruited that friend of yours?”

“You don’t gotta recruit me for nothing,” the bandit protested. “I just wanna go home. Just let me live, please? I’ll go back to Lothering, won’t harm no one, promise!”

“You’ll go back to Lothering over my dead body,” Bron snarled. “Commander, if you don’t shoot him, I will run him through.”

“Bron, _please_ ,” he pleaded.

Ethelan tilted her head. _That_ was, as a certain old friend would put it, intriguing.

Bron roared and charged forward, plunging her blade through the bandit’s chest. He choked and fell backwards off her sword, blood dribbling down his chin. He croaked and writhed for a minute before falling sickeningly still. Bron pierced his body again for good measure, then stalked back to the other militiamen. Ethelan placed her arrow back in her quiver and rejoined the group.

"Good work,” she said. “Sorry we didn’t reinforce you. We found the ambush.”

“So the ambush got ambushed?” Dannon mused. “Funny.”

“Mikha, how hurt are you?” Ethelan asked.

Mikha grunted. “There’s an arrow sticking out of me,” he said. “But otherwise alright. My wife knows how to treat this. I’ll be okay.”

“Can you make it back to the village?” Ethelan asked.

“Three years ago,” he said, “I fought through the final night of the undead attack with _three_ arrows sticking out of me. I think I can make it back to the village.”

“We shouldn’t waste any time then,” Ethelan said. “Let’s go. We have what we need.”

Bron was unusually silent on the walk back. Ethelan couldn’t blame her. The bandit she killed knew her, and had mentioned Lothering. If Ethelan didn’t know any better, she would think that looked highly suspicious. Dannon said that Bron had been pushing for the militia to send people to Lothering. If that was where the bandits were from, and Bron personally knew the bandits… The implication was enough to set Ethelan on edge.

Nathaniel seemed to be thinking the same thing. He lagged behind, indicating for Ethelan to join him as the rest of the party moved on.

“I wouldn’t trust that Bron woman,” he muttered. “She knows too much.”

"I agree,” said Ethelan. “She’s tied into these bandits somehow, but I can’t figure out how. I have a feeling there might be some answers in Lothering, but I don’t feel good about heading that way just yet. Do you think maybe Hylan or Teagan knows something?”

“If they don’t,” Nathaniel said grimly, “we might have a rat on our hands.”

 

Quest Updated:

**Barrels Out of Brondage**

Bron seems to have connections to the bandits. Investigate further in Redcliffe Village.

 

The sun was sinking in the gold sky as the detail stumbled back into Redcliffe Village. Mikha bid them a casual goodbye as he headed straight to his house, the arrow still lodged in his shoulder. As they headed down towards the village center, Ethelan watched the ghosts stir. There, Morrigan had stood and waited for nightfall. There, Fenlathal had tackled a skeleton and turned it to mabari chow. There, Alistair had kissed her come the dawn, his hands holding her hips so tight he could be certain she would never slip away. They didn’t get a good night’s sleep for a while after that battle; they slept on the road to Kinloch Hold, Alistair wrapped tightly around her in her tent, but their nights were short and their days were long. They couldn’t get a full rest until the days leading up the Landsmeet. And then he was king.

And then, he was gone, and had taken with him the rug from under her feet.

She stared at the cliff face, contemplating the pulsing empty feeling in her chest cavity. It had been three years. It shouldn’t still have hurt so bad. But the night was cold, and so was the place in her mind carved out for memories and Alistair. She realized she had stopped breathing. She drew a quick, shuddering breath, and Nathaniel appeared at her side.

“I can report to Hylan,” he said. “I think you should head up to the castle. You’re turning pale.”

“I’m a big girl, Nate,” she smiled. “I’ll be okay.”

“You won’t be okay if you freeze to death,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on Bron. You should get out of the cold. And I don’t think seeing Redcliffe at night is good for you.” 

“I’m fine, Nate,” she snapped. She flinched. She had not meant to sound so sharp. “I’m sorry. Thank you for your concern, but I’m quite alright.”

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at her and gestured his head toward the castle. “Not to intrude on your personal life,” he said, “but I think the arl would like to know you’ve made it back safely.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

Nathaniel scrubbed his face with his hand. “You’re impossible. Stop dwelling on the past and go take care of the present.”

Ethelan hesitated. Then, she sighed. “Thank you. I appreciate you looking out for me. And take note of what Bron does when she’s dismissed. I don’t trust her.”

“Will do,” he said. He smirked at her. “Now, go on, before Arl Teagan decides he doesn’t want to wait up for you anymore.”                             

Ethelan forced her feet to make the climb up to the castle. Teagan Guerrin was the last person on her mind. All around, she could hear Alistair’s voice on the air. He had promised her as they camped just outside Redcliffe that they would stay together, that they would be married someday. They hadn’t told the others, of course. Perhaps that was a good thing. No one knew the significance of their breakup but she and him.

She used to think he had completed her life. Now, she was certain that without her presence, she might never be whole again. Three years was a long time to mourn the loss of love, but the love was still there, stagnant and untouched. It simply couldn’t be acted upon, and that froze Ethelan’s heart.

A servant noticed her return and immediately left to notify Teagan. Ethelan slunk through the castle, letting her legs guide her to where she only perfunctorily knew she was to be sleeping. The castle was stained with memories as well, as if the Veil had been torn again and imprints of times past were spilling into the halls. She had walked here with Alistair once. There was the room they had slept in together. There was where he had told her that terrible joke about the suit of armor.

She still had the rose he had given her. It was back at the Vigil. She had predicted returning to Redcliffe would stir too many memories for it to be of any comfort.

Her guest room was dark and cold. As she fought to kindle a fire, she heard a presence in her doorway. She did not turn around. She simply wanted some warmth.

"Allow me,” Teagan said as he knelt down beside her. Within seconds, an orange fire was crackling in the hearth. He sat back on his legs and smiled at her. “Are you unhurt? Did you find any bandits?”

She nodded. “A man named Mikha got shot, but he’ll be okay. He says he saw worse against the undead. He was our only casualty.”

“Mikha is a good man,” Teagan said thoughtfully. “I was told you returned to the castle alone. Where is Nathaniel Howe?”

“Reporting to Hylan,” Ethelan said. “He grounded me for the night.”

Teagan laughed and angled his body towards hers. He took her hands in his own. “You’re frozen. I’m not surprised he was looking out for you.” Warmth seeped into her fingers through his hands. When she did not look away from the fire, he frowned. “Is there something wrong, Commander?”

“Commander,” she murmured. “Why do you call me Commander?”

“What would you prefer I called you, my lady?” he asked.

“Ethelan is fine,” she said. “My friends call me Ethelan.”

“Ethelan,” he said. “Not Mahariel? Not the Hero of Ferelden?”

“Not Warden-Commander,” she agreed. “Not ‘my friend.’”

“Not ‘my friend?’” Teagan asked. “Why ever not?”

She looked at him finally. Maker, she was hoping he wouldn’t be that handsome when she looked back. The resolve to fight her desire crumbled. “I don’t want to just be your friend.”

His lips curled in a satisfied smile, but he did not lean in to kiss her like she thought he might. “Really though,” he said, “you seem distant. What’s troubling you?”

Alistair. Alistair was troubling her. But he knew that well before he asked. “Memories, my lord,” she said.

“Not ‘my lord,’” he whispered. “Teagan.” He tilted his head in. His lips were but a centimeter from her own. When he spoke, they brushed against hers. “If we’re going to ignore this game, we might as well ignore it. What sort of memories are these, Ethelan?”

Her voice faltered. “Him.”

“Forget him,” Teagan said, and he kissed her.

When they drew apart, he reached up to brush away the tear tracks on her cheeks. She closed her eyes and hiccupped a sob.

“I thought this would be better,” she wheezed. “That with time he wouldn’t have so much control over my life.”

“Time will tell, my dear,” he hummed. “Would you rather I left you?”

She clasped her fingers around his wrist. “No. Please. Don’t go.”

“Don’t go?” he repeated.

“Please.”

“Alright,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel any… pressure.”

“When I’m with you, I forget why I ever loved him,” she said. She caught his lips again, but he pulled away after a few moments. She opened her eyes and gave him a questioning look.

He untangled himself from the web of their arms and rose to his feet. “Perhaps I should close the door,” he murmured. She snorted as he did so. That would have been an unfortunate oversight, to be walked in on by a well-intentioned serving girl. He turned back to face her, his face earnest. “I’ve thought about you quite a lot over the past month.”

“What have you thought about?” she asked, her voice honeyed.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “You saying things like that, for one thing. Maker, I’m in deep.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

"I’m glad,” he said as he sunk down to her level again. He pulled her close to him by her waist. She could not feel his hands through her armor, but she yearned to touch him. His movements were a little rough, and Ethelan was reminded of the last time they had seen each other. He placed a quick kiss on her lips. “I was hoping you would.”

They kissed fiercely in the orange glow of the fireplace. At some point, he eased her down onto her back, cradling her head up towards him as her hand glided down his side. As they kissed, her tears disappeared, and she could not remember why she had been crying in the first place.

They drew back only when they heard the door across the hall open and close as Nathaniel retired for the night. The two sat up. Teagan adjusted the fur coat on her shoulders.

“Perhaps we should bid goodnight,” he said. His cheeks were blazing pink, his eyes dilated.

“And go back to the game in the morning?” she prompted. “Call each other by titles and pretend to be formal?”

“Only to make tomorrow night the more sweeter,” he breathed, placing a trail of kisses up her jawline. She sighed. He pulled away. “I find you… irresistible. I told myself I would not pursue you, yet here I am, doing just that.”

"Seduce me once, shame on me,” she said. “Seduce me twice, shame on you. I _want_ you. That counts for something.”

“Yes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “It must.” He kissed her again, tucking his braid back behind his ear as he did so. “Then I will see you in the morning.”

“And I will see you in the night,” she replied. He caught his breath, shook his head, and then rose to his feet.

“Goodnight, Ethelan,” he said as he opened the door.

“Goodnight, Teagan,” she responded, and he was gone. 

 

Quest Completed:

**A Little Distraction**

Teagan seems interested in continuing the affair he and Ethelan started in Denerim a month ago. He and Ethelan decided to continue their affair.

 

The next morning, Redcliffe Village was alight with the news that the Hero of Ferelden had returned. As she and Nathaniel made their way down from the castle towards the village center, they were stopped three times by excited villagers welcoming them to Redcliffe. Ethelan was certain her arm would fall off if it was shaken so vigorously one more time. Nathaniel, for the most part, had the good graces to look pleased at this development.

“You saved them,” he said. “It’s no wonder they think you’re an even bigger hero than the tales say. Most of them actually remember you.”

“They’re good people,” Ethelan said. “I just wish they would remember me a little later in the morning.”

He smirked at her, then looked ahead. “Late night?”

“Not what you think,” she said.

“You don’t know what I think.” He scowled. “Actually, I think we’ve got excitement coming our way.”

Ethelan followed his gaze. Bron was heading straight toward them, wringing her hands nervously. Ethelan and Nathaniel exchanged a look, and the Warden-Commander prepared to raise her guard.

“Warden-Commander, Warden-Constable,” Bron greeted them. She was slightly out of breath. “I wanted to talk to you, alone, if at all possible.”

“What’s this about?” Ethelan asked.

“I realize some things may look… suspicious,” Bron admitted. “I wanted to clear that all up. It’s not what you think.”

“People are saying that a lot today,” Ethelan remarked. “It’s amazing how many of us can read minds.”

“I said my sister is in Lothering, helping with reconstruction, right?” Bron said. “That’s true. Or, it’s mostly true. It _was_ true, until recently. When the bandits moved in, they passed through Lothering. Some of them set up camp there, and some of them moved farther and landed in Redcliffe. The ones in Redcliffe didn’t last long. The villagers drove them out within the first few weeks of winter.”

“Arl Teagan mentioned that to me in a letter,” Ethelan nodded. “He figured the rest were in some camp somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t spare the men to go find it.”

“Maybe there are more bandits than what I know of,” Bron said, “but most of the ones I know about are making base in Lothering. They’re organized, sort of. They’re mostly men from South Reach, but they’re seeking their fortunes in the Arling of Redcliffe because it’s more important. There are more likely to be richer travelers along the Imperial Highway here.”

“And how exactly do you know all this?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at her.

"My sister’s in Lothering,” she said defensively. “Reconstruction’s all but stopped since the bandits moved in. I just want to go back home, but they can’t rebuild if a bunch of thugs are squatting there, gambling and drinking.”

“There’s more to it,” Nathaniel said. “You’re lying.”

Bron paled. “I’m not! It’s the truth!”

“Or mostly the truth,” Ethelan mused. “Dannon said you’ve been trying to get the militia to go to Lothering since the bandit attacks began. Is this why?”

“Yes, Warden-Commander,” Bron said. “Not the whole militia, mind you. Just a couple dozen men to drive the bandits out.”

“There must be more than a couple dozen bandits,” Nathaniel protested. “Arl Teagan says the Imperial Highway is practically inundated with them. We fought six alone yesterday. Sending so few men would be suicide.”

“The militia could handle it,” Bron argued. “Either way, Hylan wouldn’t hear it. Lothering’s still in South Reach, and Arl Teagan don’t want us stepping on any toes. They say we should be protecting Redcliffe, and nothing more.” She squared her shoulders. “I think that’s hypocritical, coming from the man who started a civil war a few years ago.”

“That was entirely different,” Ethelan snapped. “Teagan was acting for the good of Ferelden. Loghain was a destructive tyrant-in-the-making.”

Bron shrugged. “And now bandits are threatening the safety of his shiny new arling, and Lothering is still just a burnt spot on the map. But hey, the good of Ferelden, right?”

“Do you have a point, human?” Ethelan growled.

"My point is, I’m not involved with the bandits,” Bron sighed. “That’s all I want you to know.”

Nathaniel glanced at Ethelan. “I don’t think we should trust her. She’s clearly hiding something.”

“What should we do, pry off her fingernails until she tells us the rest of the story? You know what I always do when there’s someone I can’t trust.”

“Oh, no.”

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“Commander, this is ridiculous-”

Ethelan smiled at Bron. “Congratulations, Bron. You’ve earned yourself a seat next to me on the caravan to friendship.”

Bron blinked at her. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

Ethelan linked her arm through Bron’s and pulled her close. “You’re coming with me now, pal. At least for the time being.”

“I’m a prisoner?” Bron wrestled away from Ethelan. “You can’t do this to me!”

“‘Prisoner’s’ not the word I would use,” Ethelan grinned. “I prefer… companion.”

Nathaniel sighed so hard, Ethelan was worried he might crack a rib.

 

Quest Updated:

**Barrels Out of Brondage**

Bron denies having connections to the bandits. Ethelan decided to take her along with them to keep an eye on her.

 

Hylan greeted the Grey Wardens as they made their way down to the lakeside. The militia was running sparring practice in the shallows as the fishermen looked on. Parts of the Highway ran directly along Lake Calenhad, so it was no surprise that the militia trained with handicaps that they may face fighting the bandits. Ethelan was impressed at the foresight. Perhaps Nathaniel had said something to Hylan last night.

“We began running patrols along the Highway this morning,” Hylan reported. “So far there have been no reports of attacks made by the bandits, but we must wait for the first patrols to return back. The snow has mostly melted, and travel is easier again. Arl Teagan tells me to remind you to be careful, should you set out again today. The militia is eager to learn from you, Warden-Commander.”

“Excellent,” Ethelan said. “But I’m afraid it will be the Warden-Constable who does most of the training. He certainly knows more about combat than I do. I’m just some backwoods Dalish hunter who decided to shoot darkspawn one day.”

“Understood, Warden-Commander,” Hylan said, although he seemed a little deflated. “What recommendations have you for the militia?”

Ethelan thought for a moment. “I like that you’re training in the water, but don’t neglect combatting distance attacks. You know as well as I do that bandits tend to ambush travelers. Train your men to deflect a bulkier force from the flank. Also, Bron says she thinks the bandits are based out of Lothering. I think that’s worth investigating.”

“Ah, yes,” Hylan said as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Bron’s been on about that for some time now. Warden-Commander, Redcliffe cannot send its militia into another arling. The Bannorn is still in tatters from the Blight. We can’t risk South Reach perceiving action in Lothering as a threat. Furthermore, Lothering is a ruin. It seems unlikely that anyone is making base there, let alone scores of bandits.”

“I’m inclined to give it a shot,” Ethelan said. “Many things seem unlikely that are true. I don’t fully trust everything Bron has to say, but if we want to make Redcliffe safe again, it wouldn’t hurt to look into it. I can head to Lothering myself and see what the trouble is. If everything Bron says is true, we can move forward from there.”

“The arl doesn’t want anyone-”

“The arl doesn’t want anyone what?” Teagan asked, approaching the small group. “Is something the matter? I’d suggest you defer to the Warden-Commander in most matters, Hylan.”

“My lord, there is talk again of investigating Lothering,” Hylan explained.

Teagan shook his head. “No. I will not send my men out of the arling. That would be asking for war with South Reach.”

“So don’t send your men,” Ethelan said. “Send me.”

Teagan frowned. “Commander, I trust you, but this seems an odd venture, even for you. Do you truly believe there is something to be found in Lothering?”

Ethelan shrugged. “I believe Bron wants someone to go. Better it be one Grey Warden than thirty Redcliffe men. I won’t leave just yet. Even if I’m just scouting, Lothering is three days away. I have several things to take care of in Redcliffe before I walk into the hornet’s nest.”

“I remind you that you are not simply _one_ Grey Warden,” Teagan argued. “You’re the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, and the arlessa of Amaranthine. Your life has great value, Commander.” His eyes were soft. Ethelan almost felt guilty about her duty.

“All life has great value,” she responded gently. “I’ll be careful.”

“You’re not going alone,” Nathaniel interjected. “I’d be an idiot if I let you walk in there all by yourself.”

“I’m going too,” Bron said. “I want to make sure my sister is alright.”

Teagan looked to the sky as if the answers to all his problems were there. “Maker knows I’d go with you if I didn’t have so much to do here. If the three of you were to go to Lothering, I ask you not to leave just yet. Let’s see what we can do on this side of the lake before we move farther. If we cannot drive the bandits out, I give you permission to scout Lothering.”

Ethelan bowed. “My lord.”

Teagan’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary before he tore them away to look at Hylan. “Has the first patrol reported back yet?”

“No, my lord,” Hylan said. “We expect them back a little after noon.”

Teagan nodded. “If we lose anyone, or we learn more about the bandits, send word immediately.”

Hylan bowed and ducked away to attend to his men. “My lord.”

“Were I to leave Nathaniel to babysit the militia,” Ethelan ventured, “are there hunters in the village who can be ready to go out with me today or tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Teagan said. “I don’t have time to round them up, I’m afraid. Bron, you’re a hunter, are you not?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Can you find the Warden-Commander hunters?”

“Yes, my lord. Most will have set out for the day already, but a few might still be around. I can find most everyone when they come back at night.”

“Do that. Commander, Constable, if you’ll forgive me for the sudden departure, I really have much to take care of in the castle. I expect I will speak to you later.”

They bowed. He gazed at Ethelan one last time, then turned and headed back toward the castle. Ethelan found herself watching him, unaware of the sly grin Nathaniel was attempting to suppress.

Bron whistled. “Not to make any assumptions,” she said, “but did you know the arl has it bad for you, Warden-Commander?”

Nathaniel laughed. “Oh, I like this one.”

“Can it, both of you,” Ethelan grumbled. “Delegation time. Nate, you remember what we discussed about training. You’ll be okay with that?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Nathaniel said. “The militia seems pliable, more so than most Warden recruits, anyway. I can handle them.”

“Grand. That’s your job today. Bron, you’re with me. Show me these hunters. And no funny business like.”

 

Quest Updated:

**Trouble with Bandits**

A large number of bandits are making the road around Redcliffe Village unsafe for travelers. Arl Teagan has given Ethelan permission to scout Lothering for the bandit’s base if the situation does not change in the near future.

 

Redcliffe was not a hunting village, but according to Bron, there were enough of them there to sustain the population when the lake froze. Many were militiamen now, like Bron, but some still took to the Hinterlands to seek out prey. Ethelan had always heard that human hunters were less skilled than their Dalish counterparts, and this was not a memory she kept to herself. By the time she and Bron had gathered two more men to venture out, Bron was asking her a slew of questions pertaining to Ethelan’s old way of life.

Ethelan found herself rather liking the woman, even if her information was suspicious. Women were used to proving themselves as warriors in Ferelden, and Bron was no different. She had picked up a blade to join the militia, and she was already a capable swordsman. The one thing that saddened Ethelan was just how angry Bron was under the surface. Ethelan got the feeling she was just another life cast adrift by the Blight. She didn’t want to admit how hard that hit home.

Though the snow was mostly melting away, the game was scarce. Not once did the hunters spot even a trace of a track. As the sun rose higher in the sky, they paused in the shadow of a hill. Ethelan poured over a map of the arling, marking locations likely to yield something, anything.

Bron slid down onto the ground next to her, looking over her shoulder. “We usually see deer along this ridge,” she said, tracing her finger along an area south of the village. “But our hunters can’t find anything alive. Many have frozen to death.”

“Well, it’s no wonder you can’t find anything,” Ethelan replied. “You’re all so loud. Even though you’re in the plainlands, you can’t simply crash around looking for game. Dalish hunters are silent, shadows creeping through the forest. Human boots are too heavy.” She smiled at Bron. “We can fix that.”

She hopped to her feet and called the other hunters over. She had never been anything more than an acceptable hunter, but the Dalish had standards to which every apprentice was held. The time spent in her clan before the Blight was more than enough to qualify her for teaching humans. They watched quietly as she demonstrated the method Dalish hunters used to move in the wilderness, shifting her weight from leg to leg with careful precision. The first tenant of the Vir Tanadhal was to be swift and silent. Should they master that, they would immediately see an increase in game.

Sure enough, as they continued ahead, the Hinterlands became more alive. Ethelan nodded to a pair of birds chirping in the bare branches of an oak. Late in the afternoon, one of the men caught sight of a fennec. With Ethelan’s blessing, he raised his bow silently and dispatched it in one shot.

Ethelan let herself get lost in the hunt. It had been a long time since she had been out in the wild, becoming one with the land. Most days, she did not miss her boring childhood and the wayfaring life of a Dalish clan. After three long years of blood and horror, though, her heart felt light with this return to rusticity. The Hinterlands had a pure beauty about them. She felt her soul being cleansed.

They continued on through the day, bearing more success than they had in the morning. Once the sun began to sink below the hills, they made a necessary turn back for the village. The sky was lavender when they found the main road, and the hunters grew cautious. They took care not to draw attention to themselves as they followed the Imperial Highway; they had no idea how many bandits were out on the road that night, and it would be better for all parties if they did not find out.

Just a league away from the village, Ethelan held up a hand to halt her party. They listened to the wind moaning through the hills. The night was restless, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, Ethelan’s head whipped around to a rock formation behind them. Within an instant, her bowstring was drawn tight, an arrow aimed at the sound of human breaths.

“Come out, whoever you are,” she called.

After a beat, a lone man emerged from behind the rocks. He was dressed in leather armor like most of the bandits, but he was, as far as they could tell, unarmed. He lifted his hands up where they could see them and crept slowly forward.

“Don’t mean no harm,” he said. “Just want to talk to Bron.”

Ethelan tensed. “How do you know her,” she demanded.

“I’m a friend of her husband’s,” the bandit said. “I’ve got a message for her. We thought she might come along this road once the snow melted.”

“You’ve just been standing there all day waiting for her?” Ethelan asked. “What if she never came?”

The bandit shrugged. “I’d come back tomorrow.”

“This is fishy,” Ethelan said. She nodded the other woman forward. “Bron.”

“What does he want from me?” Bron asked the bandit. Her voice was shaking. Ethelan glanced back at her. She looked, for the first time, afraid.

“He says he misses you,” the bandit sneered. Ethelan’s fingers tightened around her bow. “And that your sister is waiting for you to visit.”

Bron breathed out a choked sigh. “How dare you-”

“That’s all I’m here for,” the bandit said. “Now, let me go, eh, Dalish?”

Ethelan looked at the bandit, then back at Bron. “Hm. No. Come with us back to Redcliffe.”

“What? Are you out of your bleeding mind?” the bandit protested. “No way. I did my part. I’m going home.”

“Please come peacefully,” Ethelan pressed. “I have some questions I want you to answer, and then you’ll be free to go.”

The bandit clenched his fists and tensed, ready to run. “I’m not answering no bleeding questions, knife-ear. Piss off, eh?”

Ethelan sighed. She did not want to do this the hard way. Just as the bandit turned to run, she let loose an arrow into his foot, and he howled with pain as he toppled to the ground. In an instant, Ethelan was on him, pulling his arms behind his back and dragging him to his feet.

“You blighted knife-ear! Get your hands off me!” he roared, twisting in her grasp.

“That’s _Commander_ Knife-ear to you,” Ethelan grunted. She swung her knee up to catch him between the legs, and he flopped forward, retching. “Bron, bind his wrists.”

Bron darted forward to comply, pulling a length of rope from her pack. The man reared his head to bite at her, but she slapped him across the jaw.

“You’ll pay for this,” he seethed. He spat a glob of blood onto the ground.

“I hope not,” Ethelan said. She jerked him to his feet. “Move, shemlen.”

They staggered back to Redcliffe in silence. The stars twinkled overhead as the hunters looked down on the village. It was an idyllic scene, but Ethelan’s mind was too preoccupied with keeping the bandit in front of her moving to contemplate the time she had spent in Redcliffe three years ago. That was probably for the best. She could not go on being wracked with melancholy every night.

Her progress faltered as they stepped further into the village proper. The hunters paused with her.

“Something wrong, Warden-Commander?” one of the men asked.

Ethelan chuckled, shaking her head. “I just realized - what does one do with a prisoner here?”

“Oh, I… imagine you’d take him up to the castle,” Bron said. “To stay in the dungeon until trial.”

“You just throw criminals into the arl’s house? That seems… convenient,” Ethelan said. “What if they break out?”

“They don’t,” Bron shrugged.

“Don’t you have like a prison for drunks and petty thieves or something?” Ethelan asked.

“We’ve got the stocks,” a hunter offered.

“Mm, no,” Ethelan said. “I guess I’ll bring this idiot to the castle, then. I’ve got some questions for him, and I’m sure Teagan would want to be there to hear his answers.”

“Arl Teagan,” Bron said.

“Arl Teagan,” Ethelan corrected herself. “Right. Good work today, lads. Can you teach the other hunters what I taught you?”

“Yes, Warden-Commander,” the hunters said.

“I can help too,” Bron said. “Once all this trouble with the bandits is done. With what you taught us, Redcliffe might have some meat on their bones this winter.”

The bandit took advantage of his captors’ momentary distraction to thrash in Ethelan’s grasp. He threw his head back suddenly, knocking into her jaw. She cursed and released him in surprise. He wasted no time in making a break for it, but only got so far as to have Bron trip him to the ground again. Ethelan buried her fists in his shirt sleeves, and he dug his nails into her armor. She sent a sharp kick to his ribs between the plates of his leather armor, and he grunted in pain. She pulled him to his feet roughly and reaffirmed her hold on him.

“I’m passing him off to the dungeon,” she said through gritted teeth. “You lot go home for the night. Bron, come with me.”

The men made their tentative goodnights and headed towards their homes as Ethelan and Bron dragged the bandit up to the castle. Upon their entry into the hall, two guards immediately flew to Ethelan’s side, taking custody of the bandit. Ethelan directed them to throw him in the dungeon and sent a servant to find Teagan immediately. Then, she and Bron were alone in the hall, and Ethelan smiled pleasantly at her. The torches flickered warmly over their faces. Bron was pale in the orange glow, her small eyes shining and wide.

“Are you hurt?” Ethelan asked.

“No, Warden-Commander,” Bron said. “But- you’re bleeding.”

Ethelan touched a finger mildly to her lips and inspected the red drop she pulled away. “No big deal. Can I make something very clear to you? I don’t know what’s happening to you and your sister, but if I can help, then let me help. There’s something you aren’t telling us, and it all ties in to Lothering. I can spot a wounded dove from a mile away. Now is the time to tell me, before we get any more information out of that bandit that may incriminate you. Can I help?”

Bron’s lip quivered. “I can’t say.”

“I won’t push you,” Ethelan said. “But if you’re caught up in something you shouldn’t be, and you don’t tell me, I can’t protect you when things go south.”

Bron nodded. She took a moment to herself, visibly weighing a decision. Then, her face hardened for a moment, and she nodded again.

“He-” Bron closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. “He has my sister.”

“Who? Your husband?”

Bron nodded. “He has her in Lothering. He’s holding her hostage until I send Redcliffe men to the bandits’ camp so they can slaughter them.”

Ethelan frowned. “That makes no sense. Why would they expect Redcliffe men to go to South Reach just to fight some bandits?”

“There’s somewhere over a hundred of them,” Bron said. “If they weaken the Redcliffe militia, they can continue to hold this section of the Imperial Highway without interference. They want me to convince Captain Hylan and Arl Teagan to send a large enough force that it would cripple the militia but fail against the bandits.”

“Why you?”

“I’m their tip,” she said. “If an innocent militiaman hears a rumor that Redcliffe’s problems can be solved in Lothering, it’s much less suspicious than if they send a formal letter to the arl challenging the village. They want to ambush us.”

“And your sister won’t be freed until you do so.”

Bron nodded. “She’s the only family I have left. Everyone else died in the Blight. We came to Redcliffe, but my husband left to join the bandits a few months ago. I’m their tie to the militia.”

Ethelan rested her hands on Bron’s arms. The human woman bowed her head, anxious tears forming in her eyes. Her face was guilty, furtive, ready for the chewing out she was sure to receive.

“I can help,” Ethelan said gently. “Thank you for being honest with me. We’ll rescue your sister.”

Bron looked up at her, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Really? How can you say that so certainly?”

“Bron, there’s nothing I can’t do,” Ethelan smiled. “And you and your sister deserve peace.”

Bron bit her lip to keep from sobbing with joy. “Thank you. Thank you, Warden-Commander! Oh, I could hug you!”

“I like hugs,” Ethelan laughed. Their moment came to a sharp end as footsteps hurried into the room. She turned her head.

Teagan looked over at her just as she saw him. He made a beeline for her and gripped her arms tight.

“They told me you brought in a prisoner. Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine, Teagan,” she smiled. “I’ve been through worse and you know it.”

His eyes searched her face. “You’re right. Forgive me. What happened?”

Bron cleared her throat. “My lord,” she said. “We captured a bandit on the road. He has information on their base.”

Teagan seemed to notice Bron for the first time. He released Ethelan as if jolted. “Then we’d better question him. You say you helped with his capture, Bron?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I, uh, hope this clears up some suspicion on me…?”

“We can trust her, Te- Bann Teag- _Arl_ Teagan, Maker’s breath,” Ethelan cursed. She speared his chest with her finger. “Choose a title and stick to it.”

He laughed. “As you say, Warden-Commander Arlessa Mahariel, Champion of Redcliffe and Hero of Ferelden.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. Bron tugged on her arm.

“The prisoner, Warden-Commander.”

Ethelan nodded quickly. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s go.”

Talent acquired:

**Vir Assan**

Upgrade to Sneak. The rogue remembers the teachings of the Dalish hunters, and can sneak without being detected near hostile enemies and in combat. Bonus against detection while outdoors. This mode remains active until the rogue draws their weapon.

The last time Ethelan was in the dungeons, demons were making their beds in the body of a little boy. She wondered vaguely what ever became of the mage that was responsible. She sent out a quick prayer to the Maker that he was safe.

The bandit was in rough shape in his tiny cell. He slumped against the back wall lamely, his foot still stuck with an arrow. Every breath he took wheezed through his ribs and rattled around. Ethelan cringed. That was all her handiwork, wasn’t it?

“I recruit a lot of Grey Wardens in situations like this,” she said sadly.

“He wouldn’t make a good Grey Warden,” Bron spat. “He’s a brute and a rat.”

“I know plenty of decent brutes and rats,” Ethelan said. “One of them is a Warden-Constable now.”

“Maker’s breath,” Teagan swore when he saw the bandit. “Have you ever heard of mercy, Commander?”

“This _is_ mercy, my lord, as sad as that is. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

The bandit scowled when he saw his audience and spat a glob of blood onto the ground in front of their feet. He struggled into an upright position and rattled the chains around his wrist. “I didn’t do nothing,” he growled. “This is an injustice, _Warden-Commander_. You know, we heard of you. One of our own said he got attacked by a Dalish near Redcliffe. We didn’t know it was the Hero of Ferelden.”

Ethelan remembered the bandit whom Nathaniel had pinned to a tree root the day before in the ambush. He must have escaped. She grimaced. “In the flesh.”

“Tell them what you know, Adan,” Bron said.

He chuckled, a wheezy, broken sound. “Remember your sister, Bron. She’s waiting for you.”

“You’re not in a position to play games,” Teagan warned. “I suggest you bear that in mind.”

The bandit’s face fell as he looked at each of his captors in turn. For the first time, he seemed to realize just how hot the water was. Another cough wracked his body, and he wiped a line of bloody spittle from his chin. “What,” he croaked, “would you like to know, my lord?”

“These bandits,” Teagan pressed, “they’re organized?”

“More or less,” the bandit said. “We all got one base of operations, but there ain’t no one leader. We all take turns pitching in ideas.”

“And your base, it is in Lothering?”

“Yes, my lord. That village may never be habitable again, but it sure makes a good spot for a couple dozen bandits.”

“He’s lying,” Bron said flatly. “There are over a hundred bandits camped where Lothering used to stand.”

“You haven’t been there, Bron,” the bandit argued. “You ain’t seen it. How can they trust your information?”

Ethelan looked at Bron and jostled her shoulder. “I trust her.” She narrowed her eyes at the bandit. “I don’t trust you. You came all the way here just to deliver a message to Bron. Why don’t you explain to the arl the situation with Bron’s sister.”

“Ain’t no situation,” the bandit grinned. One of his teeth was chipped. “She’s just waiting for you to return.”

“Is there to be an organized strike on Redcliffe?” Teagan asked.

The bandit chuffed a laugh. “Maker, I don’t know. They don’t tell me these things. Don’t seem likely, does it? Not really our style. All I know is Haman sent me to deliver a message to Bron, and I got me teeth kicked in for it.”

“I didn’t kick his teeth,” Ethelan muttered. “I did kick him in the ribs, though. Blighter kept fighting me.”

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” the bandit asked. “Am I going to be healed?”

Teagan pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Yes… yes. A healer will tend to you shortly. That’s all, for now. We will be back, should we have any more questions. Rest well.”

The bandit dipped his head in a mocking bow. “My lord,” he drawled.

Teagan strode from the cell, and Ethelan and Bron followed him, matching his pace. They made their way to the main hall, where Teagan stopped suddenly and stared ahead aimlessly. He sighed and looked back at Ethelan. His face was gray with exhaustion.

“One assumes you have more information than that man was willing to give,” he prodded. Ethelan nodded. “Then let’s have it out.”

Ethelan glanced at Bron for permission to share. At Bron’s sign, Ethelan retold the whole tale to Teagan. The arl listened silently, eyes never moving from Ethelan. When she had finished, he scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Kidnapping, extortion, banditry,” he groaned. “It’s never dowry disputes or petty thievery around here.”

“You sound like Alistair,” Ethelan smiled.

He peaked out with one eye from behind his hand. “Forgive me. We will need to act on this.”

Ethelan placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “We can sort it out in the morning, my lord. You look exhausted. You need to be able to think clearly to make any decisions.”

Teagan smiled and covered her hand with his own. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

Bron glanced between the two of them, got the gist, and started backing away. “I’ll just be heading home then, yeah? Long day of hunting. And you two look like you could use some, ah, time to yourselves. To rest.” She bowed quickly. “My lord. Warden-Commander.”

“We’ll find her,” Ethelan called after Bron. “Don’t you worry.”

Bron flashed an honest smile. “Thank you. I mean it.” She hurried from the hall, leaving Teagan and Ethelan alone.

Ethelan let her hand run down from his shoulder along his arm. “We’re obvious,” she said.

“Hm?” He re-clasped her hand in both of his. “What ever could you mean?”

“Bedtime for you,” she decided. “Busy day?”

He blinked slowly, then shook his head to shake the sleep from his eyes. “You have no idea.”

She glided away from him, pulling him along by his hands. “Come on. Let me see if I can’t make it better.”

 

Quest Completed:

**Vir Tanadhal**

Redcliffe’s hunters are struggling to bring home food for their families. Ethelan taught several hunters Dalish tactics to help with the hunting.

 

Quest Updated:

**Barrels Out of Brondage**

Bron’s sister is being held hostage by Bron’s husband Haman, and Bron must send the Redcliffe militia into a trap near Lothering in order to free her. Ethelan agreed to help rescue her sister.

 

Teagan reclined on the bed in her chambers, watching as she unstrapped the leather armor from around her midsection. She felt his eyes burning into her, and looked up just as she dropped the chest plate to the floor. Upon meeting her gaze, he smiled slyly at her.

“There’s nothing sexy about taking off armor,” she said. “You can stop looking at me like that.”

“What if I like a woman in armor?” he said, spreading his hands.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she replied, undoing a buckle around her arm. “I’m sweaty and sore. I want it off.” She paused and looked at him again. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen _you_ in armor. I seem to recall a handsome bann in green mail after the Battle of Denerim.”

“You thought I was handsome then? I had just fought hordes of darkspawn after traveling for days across the country.”

She kicked off a shin guard. It hit the wall with a low thud. “Hot,” she enunciated clearly. “Zevran called it ‘battle glow.’ I think Oghren and Nate have terms for it too. After a battle, a person either looks like utter shit, or disturbingly attractive. Battle glow is when handsome banns look irresistible after fighting in wars.”

“Well, my lady,” he replied smoothly, “I suppose that rather does explain a lot about you.”

She shed the last of her armor and pulled her undershirt off over her head. He sat up a little, almost startled, and she slinked toward the bed. She pressed him back into the pillows as she kissed him. Her hand crept down from his chest to his waistband.

He paused, not drawing away from her face. “You’re bleeding again,” he murmured into her lips.

“Sorry,” she said. “He headbutted me.”

“Was this before or after you kicked him in the ribs?”

“Just before.”

He slid his hand up between them to thumb at the blood on her bottom lip. “You’re very strong for your size, my lady.”

“I’m tough,” she said defensively. “Elves are usually short and lithe. That doesn’t mean we’re not strong.”

“No doubt,” Teagan smiled. “I fear kissing you will simply make you bleed more.”

“Let me put my mouth elsewhere, then?”

“Mm, very attractive,” he said sarcastically. “Please, bleed on my-”

She smacked him lightly on the chest. “You’re no better than Alistair. I’ll stop the bleeding, and then you’ll let me help you wind down?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’d like that.”

“So formal now,” she teased, leaning back to press a finger to her lip. “You weren’t this formal when you bedded me a month ago.”

“I’m simply paying a lady the respect she’s due.”

“Well, cut the act,” she laughed. “There’s no one around to watch you maintain your façade of good manners.”

“There’s you,” he said, winding his hand around her waist. “And your opinion of me matters very much in my eyes. And it’s not a façade. I’m a nobleman.”

She laughed again. “And I’m an arlessa, but I’m still going to make your toes curl.”

“No doubt,” he replied again. “Ethelan.”

She let her eyes flicker down to where her other hand was unbuttoning his trousers. “Oh, look at that,” she said, her head already sinking down. “The bleeding’s stopped.”

             

The next morning, Ethelan, Nathaniel, and Bron met with Teagan and Hylan in the castle to discuss the way forward. Ethelan couldn’t help but remember the last “war meeting” she had had in the main hall. That had involved much more magic, and much less furtive glance exchanges with Teagan. But that was a different time. These sorts of meetings still didn’t feel right without Alistair by her side.

He would’ve stood there, right behind her, if he were there. His arms would have been crossed, and he would’ve been wearing a neutral expression that always bordered on a little sad to Ethelan’s eyes. He would’ve listened, made one or two facetious comments, and then delivered a crucial viewpoint that cemented the decision in everyone’s minds. Afterwards, he would’ve sighed with relief that he hadn’t had to make the decision, even though, in some way, that was exactly what he had done.

Instead of Alistair now, Ethelan supposed she had Nathaniel. But for as much as she loved Nathaniel as her right hand man, he was not Alistair.

But Alistair was a king. Kings didn’t travel with Grey Wardens.

Grey Wardens, however, _did_ travel with militiamen, as they were quickly coming to decide. Every moment they wasted, Bron’s sister was in greater peril. There would be no doubt that Ethelan and her party would set out very soon to rescue her. Teagan was not entirely in agreement with that last point, however.

“You can’t risk your life to rescue one person,” he argued. “We need you here. All of Ferelden needs you here, where you won’t be murdered for snooping where you shouldn’t be. The trip to Lothering and back wastes almost a week. That’s one week we need your help defending Redcliffe.”

“A woman is in danger, Arl Teagan,” Ethelan protested. “I have to do everything in my power to make sure she’s safe.”

“You don’t have to do so much for one woman,” Teagan said. “Your duties lie elsewhere.”

Ethelan bit her lip. “Three years ago, you didn’t complain when I fought my way through the undead, snuck into the castle, travelled to the Circle of Magi and back, performed a ritual, and found the fucking _Urn of Sacred Ashes_ to save one person.”

“Saving Eamon’s life was of great political importance-”

“The stakes are much lower here, are they not?” she interrupted. “Redcliffe isn’t in a situation so dire we can’t wait six days. I admit that six days without training the militia is a bit of a waste, but we need to scout Lothering anyway. Better you send me, Nate, and Bron to corroborate some of the claims we’ve heard than a militia scout unit. And if we just _happen_ to rescue Bron’s sister while we’re there, worse things have accidentally happened. No one’s becoming king this time.”

“If it would be more convenient,” Nathaniel added, “I could remain in Redcliffe to continue training while you scout Lothering.”

“No,” Ethelan said. “I need you to have my back.”

“Warden-Commander, you’ve been here three days,” Teagan said. “Aren’t you moving a little fast? How do you know you can trust Bron’s claims?”

Ethelan’s eyes darted over to Bron, who looked anxious. “My gut tells me she’s not lying. There’s no reason for her to lie to me to get me alone. The bandits have no reason to want to kill me.”

“You don’t know that,” Nathaniel said. “I’m sure someone would pay a lot of money for your head on a pike.”

“You’re not helping,” Ethelan growled. “The bandits didn’t know I was in the area until after Bron had already started convincing me to go to Lothering. They’re petty thieves, not Antivan Crows.”

“I still agree with you,” Nathaniel clarified. “I say we should go to Lothering now before it’s too late.”

“I also am hesitant to send militiamen to Lothering,” Hylan agreed. “We can manage a week without Vigil’s Keep training. We managed several months before. Not much will be lost in the time it will take for you to return.”

“We can bring back concrete information on what we’re dealing with,” Bron added. “If it still truly is over a hundred bandits, Redcliffe will have to handle them differently. If it’s only a couple dozen, like Adan said, then they can all be wiped out at once.”

“I’d rather not kill anyone,” Ethelan said. “We can simply detain bandits, right? How are bandits dealt with in Redcliffe?”

“I want them dead,” Bron said. “They’re allowing Haman to hold my sister hostage.”

Teagan pursed his lips. “There’s no arguing with you, Commander. You make a fair point.” He tilted his head. “Have you always argued in this way? You seemed milder in years before.”

“With Morrigan, and Wynne sometimes. Alistair didn’t really question me much. And Nathaniel will tell me when my plan is stupid,” she shrugged. “I still leave Fereldan politics to humans, if that’s what you mean.”

“Except for placing your friends on the throne,” Nathaniel commented.

“Right. Except for that. To be fair, I didn’t want to-”

“Can we not get distracted?” Bron interrupted. “Are we saving my sister, or aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Teagan said. “Go on. Scout Lothering. But come back alive.”

Ethelan grinned at him. “What will you do to me if I disobey that order?”

Teagan raised his eyebrows at her. “Let’s not find out.”

 

Quest Updated:

**Trouble with Bandits**

A large number of bandits are making the road around Redcliffe Village unsafe for travelers. Arl Teagan has given Ethelan permission to scout Lothering for the bandit’s base. Travel to Lothering with the World Map.

 

Once again, Ethelan was packing a travel bag. She wore her Commander of the Grey armor, her fur coat draped off her shoulders. She weighed two bundles of dried elfroot in her hands. After a moment of deliberation, she placed the lighter of the two in her pack. A knock sounded at the door. She called for the person to enter.

Nathaniel watched her pack, fully prepared for travel himself. He propped himself against the doorframe silently, a restless expression on his face.

“Hurry up,” he said. “We need to get on the road before noon.”

“Almost done,” she said. “Be patient.”

He was silent for a minute. Then, he said, “Do you have the map?”

“We’re following the Highway,” she said. “We don’t need it.” She flapped the map in the air, then packed it regardless.

“You never know what might happen,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder into the hall. “Do you really think we’ll find Bron’s sister in Lothering?”

Ethelan sighed and slung her pack onto her back. “I don’t have a reason not to.”

“She could easily be lying. She might be trying to lure you into a trap.”

Ethelan met Nathaniel’s eyes, her eyebrows drawn together. Her eyes were sad. “We’ve both lost people dear to us, Nathaniel. We know what that fear and heartbreak feels like. When she told me about her sister, I could see it in her eyes. She’s lost her entire family. We know what that looks like in a person.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Then I trust your judgement.”

“I’ve been at war with the darkspawn for three years now,” Ethelan said. “I’ve seen how the Blight destroys people. I don’t want to see another life torn apart by it.”

“This isn’t the Blight, Commander,” Nathaniel said. “It’s humanity’s corruption.”

“It’s all the same,” Ethelan said. “If there wasn’t a Blight, if I had saved Lothering, Bron’s sister wouldn’t have been captured while rebuilding. This is my responsibility.”

“You can’t put that weight on yourself,” Nathaniel protested. “You didn’t do this.”

“Maybe so,” she smiled sadly. “But I’m gonna fix it.”

She took her place by his side and the two of them strode into the corridor. They would meet Bron in front of the chantry in a few minutes, and then set out along the Imperial Highway for the ruins of Lothering. And then, they would hope for a quiet journey and a healthy dose of good luck.

“So coincidentally,” Nathaniel said as they started down the stairwell, “how long have you and the arl been sleeping together?”

Ethelan gave him a sidelong glare. “I don’t ask you about _your_ personal life.”

“Fair point. Surely it hasn’t been for more than a year. I can’t imagine the last time you saw him, though. Unless… oh,” he realized. “Denerim. Just a month, then.”

“You’re a bad man, Nathaniel Howe.”

“I’m not judging you,” he said. “He’s a good man. A little old for you, but that’s your business.”

“It’s _all_ my business,” she grumbled.

“You could do worse than an arl,” Nathaniel said.

“You could do better than a yellow-haired apostate. Mind your own business.”

“Let’s… just meet Bron, shall we?”

 

Ethelan could handle travelling in small groups. When it was just her and a few other Wardens, the road felt usual. Hers had always been a life of journeys. The road went ever on and on. But when she was surrounded by a certain number of people, just similar enough to her numbers during the Blight, Ethelan grew melancholy. That was the word Anders had used to describe her before he left for the Free Marches the previous year. _Always so melancholy, brave_ _Commander_. _Lighten up a little!_ He grew melancholy not long after that, though. She wondered what ever happened to him.

The air around Redcliffe was cold, but Ethelan had two companions with her to keep her mind occupied. Nathaniel was not much of a talker, and Bron was wrapped up in her own worries, but this was Ethelan’s pace. There weren’t enough bodies to set her mind on edge. Just the three of them and a long, open road.

They were wary of bandits as they journeyed. They kept their weapons within reach, and made sure to take long detours down off the road and through the underbrush when they heard voices on the path. Bron was reluctant to avoid conflict; the closer they got to Lothering, the more rage she seemed to carry in her shoulders. With her sister so close to being within her reach, Bron’s mind was unquestionably turned to vengeance.

They slept far from the road, three tents in a row around a pitiful sizzling campfire. The first night passed without incident, although Ethelan awoke with dew frozen into her hair and walked around with a chill all day. She could hear Nathaniel and Bron snickering behind her back all morning. By late afternoon on the second day, however, Bron frowned up at the graying sky.

“I don’t think frozen hair is the least of our worries, Warden-Commander,” she said. “Looks like snow.”

“Do you think it’ll go away if we wish really hard?” Ethelan asked hopefully.

“We’ll need to find extra shelter tonight,” Nathaniel said. “If it snows, we run the risk of freezing to death.”

They continued on, shooting occasional warning looks at the sky in hopes of deterring the impending snowfall. The weariness in their limbs alone told them it was sunset; the sky was dark and cottony, and the sun was nowhere to be found. They set up a single tent in the cover of a bluff, and huddled around the fire until the falling snow snuffed it out. They pressed together inside the tent all night, and slept very little.

Ethelan was the first to emerge in the morning, because Bron was in a fitful sleep and Nathaniel was too grumpy and frozen to move. Much of the snowfall had not stuck, but a thin blanket of white stretched over the earth as far as the eye could see. There was to be no fire that morning; they found no dry wood, and they hadn’t the time to fight with what they could scrounge together. They broke camp and pressed on, rubbing their hands together and heating them with little puffs of steam from their mouths like little cranky dragons.

As they paused in the afternoon for a late lunch, Bron pulled Ethelan aside. Her eyes were dark and stormy. Ethelan recognized the look of bloodlust on her face.

“When we get to Lothering,” Bron said, “I’m going to kill Haman. I won’t leave without him dead, even if we can avoid fighting him.”

“He’s your husband,” Ethelan said. “How can you say that?”

Bron scowled. “He’s a monster. He’s got my sister. Maker knows what he’s been doing to her…”

“I take it this isn’t a happy marriage?” Ethelan prompted.

“If ‘happy’ is a forceful bed and constant threat of death,” Bron spat, “then yes, it is a happy marriage. Haman is a terrible, violent man. He lost his position as a templar when King Alistair made changes to the Circle of Magi. He took out his need for power on me. I’m glad I escaped when I had the chance. But I want him dead.”

“Okay, Bron,” Ethelan said. “I can’t stand to kill people, you know. That seems odd, but it’s true. But men like Haman? I would kill them all myself if I could.”

“Thank you, Warden-Commander,” Bron said. “Lothering deserves one less bastard mucking up the place.”

“Just so long as this is enough to make you happy,” Ethelan said.

They continued on from their resting place and pressed ahead over the ground. This section of the Imperial Highway had crumbled to ruin from the darkspawn attack. A makeshift lower path had been pounded out since, but it ran parallel to the original highway, and was hard to follow through the snow. Despite its ruggedness, however, it seemed to run straight to Lothering.

They were on a familiar road near the village when they saw the first signs of trouble. Ahead on the path, which had already been kicked up by travelers passing through, a splatter of crimson blood colored the gray slush. The trio halted and drew their weapons, but there was no one to be found.

They walked a little farther down the path and soon came along an upturned carriage. It had been stripped of all valuables, down to the cloth seat linings. Its back wheels had been blasted off and charred by something large and hot. That did not bode well. As they leaned back from their inspection of the damage, a voice sounded behind them. They spun around quickly to see a man standing casually along the road.

“It’s a shame what happened,” he said. “Poor blighters couldn’t pay the toll.”

“You don’t sound very sorry,” Nathaniel gritted.

“I’ve seen men like you before,” Ethelan said. “I ran them off the south road three years ago during the Blight. You people never learn.”

“I’m not ‘you people,’” the bandit said. “I’m just a man trying to protect the budding redevelopment of the village Lothering. Would you like to make a donation to the reconstruction project?”

“I can’t afford whatever it is you’re asking,” Ethelan said.

“Oh, come now,” the bandit said. Ethelan eyed two sheathed knives on his waist. “With sturdy furs like that, I think you can spare a little coin for the poor village of Lothering.”

Ethelan listened for a second, then inclined her head toward the crumbling pillar behind the bandit. Nathaniel nodded slightly. “I’ve got nothing to spare, I’m afraid.”

“Shame,” said the bandit, drawing his knives. “If there’s one thing we common folk hate, it’s stingy misers like you.”

He lunged for Ethelan just as Nathaniel raised his bow and shot at the mage hiding behind the pillar. Ethelan ducked out of the way and elbowed the bandit in the shoulder blade. Bron charged at the mage and bashed into him with her shield, knocking them both into the pillar. The bandit that had attacked Ethelan slashed at her neck. She rolled backwards, but tripped over rubble, and careened straight onto her back. She risked a glance backwards. Nathaniel and Bron were preoccupied with the mage. They had not noticed her fall.

The bandit stood over Ethelan, bearing his blades. They caught the winter sun and shone with a cold, fierce light. He slashed again, first with his left knife, then with his right. She managed to dodge both attacks, but did not see the third. The blade sliced through the fur of her shoulder and scraped her armor. The cheap metal chipped on her chest plate. He growled and tossed the broken knife aside. He buried his fist in her coat and pulled her into his face. She could smell the sweat glistening on his neck.

She reared her head back and smashed it against his. He grunted and pulled back, but did not drop her. He drew his knife back, aiming it at her face. She scrambled to get her feet under her so she could kick him, but he had her at an awkward angle and her legs were all twisted beneath her weight. Her bow was lying uselessly a few inches away. She blinked. Her bow.

Too quickly for him to react, she threw her hand back into her quiver and pulled an arrow out. She did not even pause as she urged it forward in one fluid motion, burying it in the bandit’s neck. He released her and staggered backwards. A panicked gurgling noise poured out of his mouth. He stumbled and tripped over his own feet, still grappling with the arrow plunged in his neck. Ethelan leapt to her feet and retrieved her bow. Within seconds, the bandit fell forward onto the ground, snapping the shafts of multiple arrows pierced in his chest.

Ethelan whipped her head around toward Nathaniel and Bron. The mage was safe behind a wall of blue ice, waving his hands in the air and muttering an incantation as Bron hacked and slashed at the barrier. Nathaniel’s legs pulled at brown roots that snared him in place. Ethelan gazed at the ruins of the Imperial Highway around them. She made a break for them, hopping up several piles of rubble and planting herself firmly on a halved pillar. The air crackled with electricity. Purple tendrils were building between the mage’s twirling hands. Ethelan pulled her bowstring taunt. She let the arrow fly.

It missed its mark and lodged in the mage’s hand. He swore and lost his concentration, and the lightning faded to nothing. Ethelan loosed another arrow at the mage, and this one struck true, plunging straight through his chest. He toppled backwards with a cry, then fell silent.

Ethelan rejoined her companions. Bron slashed the vines from around Nathaniel’s feet. They checked themselves over for injuries – Nathaniel’s ankle was wrenched and bleeding, but it was nothing a little elfroot couldn’t soothe – and wiped the blood from their skin. Ethelan looked over at the corpses distastefully.

“Well, we’re in the right place,” she said.

“Has it occurred to you how we’re going to sneak into Lothering unnoticed?” Nathaniel grunted as Bron wrapped his ankle with sticky bandages. “Or, for that matter, find Bron’s sister?”

“Maybe they’ll assume we paid the toll,” Ethelan suggested. “That’s just about the best excuse we’ve got.”

“I don’t know what Lothering looks like with all the bandits now,” Bron said. “But I know where our old home used to stand. We can try there.”

“With our luck, it’s that house up on the hill in the north,” Ethelan said. “I still remember it. It was all alone out there.”

“That? Oh, that was the Hawke house,” Bron said. “I’m pretty sure they were apostates. I lived with my husband in the south. It’s not a far walk from the east road.”

Nathaniel struggled to his feet with a grimace. “Let’s not waste any more time. The village is only a little farther away.”

He was both correct and incorrect. They arrived at the village within a few minutes, but little was left of Lothering as Ethelan remembered it. She had never seen it in the best of conditions, but it was unquestionably a place of dwelling before the Blight claimed it. Now, it was a husk of a husk. The earth between the melted patches of snow was black and poisoned. Most of the buildings were completely obliterated, save for the rotting sinews of wooden frames that may have once been houses. The land stank of darkspawn and death, even so many years after it had been razed. Nothing was left of Lothering but a charred black vomit stain.

The further into the area they wandered, the more life popped out in stark contrast to the tainted earth. Tents sprung up in the shadows of creaking rafters, and rugged-looking men and women stared with unfriendly eyes as the travelers passed. Not all were bandits; some looked scared and starved, faces too good to be criminals. Ethelan caught sight of one or two sick-looking children. She looked out along the stretch of the horizon. Tents choked out the earth. There must have been nearly two hundred of them. Ethelan was reminded of a war camp. She shuddered.

“Well-populated area, for a blighted pit of taint,” she muttered.

“Those tents over there are the reconstructionists,” Bron said, pointing to a cluster of tents that looked more weathered than the rest. “My sister was staying in one of those before my husband came.”

“We haven’t been jumped yet,” Ethelan said. “That’s good. Do you think she’s in her old tent?”

“No,” Bron said. “Haman definitely has her where he can see her.”

“Where is your old house?”

“It won’t be there anymore,” Bron said. “But follow me this way.”

She led them down the remnants of a path, cutting too close to a spot of tents for Ethelan’s comfort. She felt eyes poking out from between the flaps, scrutinizing her, contemplating how she and her companions had made it past the swindlers on the road and kept so much of their possessions. Contemplating if they were worth taking.

Bron stopped next to of a thin slice of mushy bark that might have at one time been a tree. “Here. This is where I used to live. I’m sure of it.” Her hands were shaking. Mist leaked from her mouth steadily.

Ethelan placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Bron. It’s hard to lose your home.”

“What do you know about it?” Bron hissed.

Ruins, long-abandoned before and long-abandoned after. The frame of a shattered mirror, still standing, left for time to eat away. A bare hollow just a few paces off, not camped in in three years. No trace of what she left behind. No trace of any life before grey blood and cold nights.

“More than you think,” Ethelan said softly.

Nathaniel nodded toward a tent set up a little ways away. A vicious-looking mutt was tied to a stake outside it, growling at them. “That’s the closest tent. Think it’s your husband’s?”

Bron’s fists clenched. “That’s it. That’s his filthy dog. Wretched creature.”

“It looks like its bred with an Antivan Sentinel,” Ethelan projected. “Those are guard dogs for warehouses. See it’s defensive stance, the way it’s crouched on its back legs? It’s guarding something. It doesn’t want anyone near that tent.”

Nathaniel and Bron stared at her like she had two heads. She scoffed.

“I’m _Fereldan_. I like dogs,” she said defensively. “The library at Vigil’s Keep is full of books about dogs.”

“That’s a… fair point,” Nathaniel conceded. “A guard dog _does_ scream ‘captive.’ Should we try it?”

“Breaking and entering is easier when there isn’t a vicious attack dog outside the tent,” Bron said. “But my sister might be in there. We have to chance it. And if Haman is there, even better.”

Nathaniel swept his arms toward the dog. “Commander, all yours.”

“What?” Bron hissed as Ethelan walked calmly over to the dog.

“The Warden-Commander is good with animals,” Nathaniel said.

“I don’t see how she-”

“Good puppy!”

It really didn’t take much to win a dog’s loyalty. Ethelan always carried around a bone in her bag, in case she ever ran into another stray mabari again. Within seconds, the mutt was wagging its tail at her and chomping happily away on the leg bone of a sheep. Ethelan crouched down next to it and rubbed behind its ears, cooing softly.

“You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you, fenlathal? Yes you are! Yes you are!”

Nathaniel and Bron cautiously approached the tent. Bron stared at the happy dog with an equal mix of disgust and wonder. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen that animal seem happy.”

“Fenlathal?” Nathaniel squinted. “Isn’t that _your_ mabari’s name?”

Ethelan jumped to her feet and dusted off her knees. She shrugged. “It’s elvhen for dog.”

“You named your dog… dog.”

“Yes. Keep up. Let’s check the tent,” Ethelan said. “And be wary. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s inside, but we should be prepared for anything.”

They entered the tent cautiously, hands hovering over their weapons.

Ethelan was not entirely certain what she expected to find in the ratty tent, but it wasn’t what she received. A rickety table occupied much of the space, and beneath it, a great wooden trunk undoubtedly meant for the housing of stolen valuables. Behind that, a bedroll lay unmade on the hard ground, and, hanging above that by her hands, was an unconscious woman.

“Eirian!” Bron cried, rushing forward to the woman. She made fast work of the knots before Ethelan had even fully reacted. “Eirian, can you hear me? Wake up! What’s wrong with her?”

Ethelan’s eyes fell on a set of poison-making materials on the table. She dabbed her finger in a pulpy poultice and brought it quickly to her nose. “Knockout tincture. Very strong.”

Nathaniel rooted through the leaves in the small box. “Witherstalk, deathroot, blood lotus… Nasty stuff. Whoever made this either knew what he was doing, or threw everything he could think of into a flask and got lucky he didn’t kill her. She’s going to wake up from some terrible nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Bron paled. “We need to get her out of here before-”

A deep male voice sounded outside the tent. Everyone within froze. “Where’d you get that bone, Killer? Maul an unsuspecting mage?” He laughed, ugly and brutish.

“Haman,” Bron whispered.

“Grand timing,” Ethelan cursed. “Be ready.”

The flap to the tent opened. Haman stopped in his tracks. He stared at them. They stared at him. His lips twisted up in a sadistic grin.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “Bronnie decided to come back to her husband after all.”

“You bastard,” Bron growled.

“Is that any way to greet your husband?” he said. “I’ve missed you so much. The nights are so lonely without you. Who are your friends?”

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Ethelan warned. The tent was too small for combat, and it was three on one. There was no way they were getting out of this situation without a mess. Bron was practically bristling with bloodlust.

“You’re intruding in _my_ home,” Haman replied. “I oughtta kill you where you stand. But I’m not an idiot. I know I can’t beat three of you in a fight.” He chuckled. “Well, well, Bronnie. Looks like you finally got clever, eh? Unfortunately, a wife shouldn’t be cleverer than her husband. Why don’t you come on back to me without a fuss, and nobody will get hurt?”

“Don’t lay a hand on me,” Bron snarled. “I’m here for my sister.”

“She’s not as fun as you, Bronnie,” Haman grinned. “But she sure is prettier. She don’t even fight back like you do… when I drug her.”

Bron roared and drew her sword. “You perverse fiend! How _dare_ you lay a hand on her!”

“Were I a human,” Ethelan growled, pulling her bow off her back, “I would eat his heart in the Denerim market.”

Nathaniel knocked an arrow. Haman looked around at the three armed intruders, sweat prickling on his brow. He swallowed, then whistled. “Get ‘em, Killer!” He ducked out of the hut, and the mutt burst in in his place, snarling.

The dog was fast. It lunged at Ethelan and closed its jaws around her wrist before she had time to react. It may not have been a mabari war hound, but its teeth had no issue cutting through her armor and piercing the skin. She cried out in pain and tried to shake it off. It relented only when Bron lobbed its head clean off with her sword.

She wasted no time in giving chase to Haman. Ethelan and Nathaniel ran after her, tearing through the tents to desperately keep up with their companion. She was fast, but Haman was faster. He fled a winding path through Lothering, leading them east and stirring up as much of a racket as he could. Any hope of not drawing attention to themselves dissipated as bandits emerged from their huts with their weapons, seeking the sound of the commotion.

“That’s Bron!” a bandit called. “Is the militia here?”

“I don’t see them,” another replied. “Think she’s dumb enough to come by herself?”

“There goes that plan,” a third one spat. “Kill ‘em!”

The camp fell on Ethelan and her companions. It was all they could do to simply hold them off while trying to stay alive and pursue Haman.

And then, Bron was separated by a line of sword-wielding bandits. Nathaniel fired off arrows like a hail storm, dispatching bandit after bandit in clean shots. Ethelan was struggling to draw her string back far enough to shoot. Blood was pouring from the wound on her wrist, running down her hand and making it too slick to grip the wood properly. She wiped her hand on her surcoat and ducked down low to tackle an approaching bandit to the ground. She was not large, but the angle and the surprise gave her the advantage. He tumbled hard, and she wrenched the knife from his hand. She buried it in his throat and hopped back to her feet. She backed up until she pressed against Nathaniel.

They were surrounded, but they had the upper hand. Ethelan counted at least ten bandits around them, and more were wandering over to watch the goings on. Somewhere behind her, Ethelan heard Bron scream in rage. Without her bow, Ethelan felt useless.

“We can’t fight them all,” Nathaniel panted. “We have to escape.”

“Are there any archers?”

“We’d be dead if there were.”

“Take out yer man with the big space between him and his neighbor,” Ethelan ordered. “We’ll make a break for it and find Bron and get out of here. Start counting bandits.”

Nathaniel loosed an arrow at the bandit, and he and Ethelan took off running through the gap the body left in the line. They heard steel clashing on steel to their right. They made a beeline for the sound, stumbling around a tent. And there was Bron.

She had Haman engaged, and it was clear she had the advantage. She was pressing down on him, his sword against hers the only thing keeping him from his death. He was bent backwards over a tainted tree stump, his back pressed into the peaty wood. She was growling something at him. Veins bulged in his neck from the strain.

For a moment, Ethelan considered ordering Bron to stop. Then, she recalled Bron’s request. This was her one chance at retribution, her one chance to make the world pay for the misery it caused her. As much as she wanted to, Ethelan couldn’t deny her of that. It wasn’t just for her. It was for Eirian.

Eirian. Shit. Eirian, the whole reason they had come to Lothering in the first place, whom they had left for dead in the tent. There was no going back for her. The bandits were closing in on them, and there was no way they could fight their way through the horde. Ethelan silently cursed. If one person could make it back, it was a Dalish hunter. Be swift and silent. There was no time to waste. She grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulders.

“Nate. I’m going to go back for Eirian. Bandits will be on you in seconds. Take Bron and get her out of Lothering. Run as far as you can. I’ll meet you on the road, and if I don’t see you, leave me and get back to Redcliffe. I’ll follow.”

“Commander, are you crazy?” he cried. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“Not if they don’t see me,” she said. “I’ll meet you back in Redcliffe. _Go_.”

She shoved him toward Bron and darted away, slipping under the back cover of a tent. It was, thankfully, empty. She curled into a corner, hugging her knees, and listened. The bandits charged past the tent. She could hear them calling that they had her companions in their sight. She tensed, waiting for the battle that never came. The boots charged away. Lothering quieted. She let out the breath she had been holding.

With the second to rest, she inspected her wounded arm. She had no idea if she had time to treat the bleeding in her makeshift hiding spot. She couldn’t risk it. She rose to her feet with a sharp gasp, and clutched her wrist. Swift and silent. She could be in an out without being seen, but she had to _move_.

She poked her head out of the tent flap. The camp was not abandoned, but the brunt of the attacking force had left the immediate area. The shadows were growing long. She could use them to her advantage. Once night fell, she would have little issue dragging Bron’s sister from Lothering.

Talent activated:

**Vir Assan**

She picked her way among the tents, moving without a sound. The snow had all melted in Lothering – the product of many feet on blighted earth. She snuck carefully over the soggy ground, ducking behind crates and curling into the backs of tents whenever footsteps approached. Slowly, slowly, just as the sun kissed the horizon, she found Haman’s tent.

Eirian was still slumped on the floor inside, her brown hair pooling around her face. Ethelan rushed to her side and rolled her onto her back. She was fast asleep, her face scrunched up as if in pain. That would be the deathroot and the blood lotus. They caused horrifying hallucinations in conscious victims. Ethelan didn’t want to imagine what they could do to a sleeping woman.

Ethelan slapped her cheeks lightly, but it did no good. She looked around desperately, but there was nothing in the tent she could use to wake Eirian. She had two options. She could carry Eirian on her back through Lothering. Unlikely – Ethelan was smaller than her, and, though she was rather strong, she doubted her ability to sneak around with an unconscious human on her back. Or, she could wait for Eirian to wake up, hope Haman was dead and no one came snooping through his hut, and get them both out before anyone came looking for her. Neither option was ideal. Ethelan resolved to wait.

She fixed Eirian into the bedroll and sat down next to her. She tried her best to stay alert, her ears pricked to the sounds of footsteps outside the tent. The overpowering smell of the dog’s corpse made her gag, but she daren’t make a sound or move the body. Eventually, she must have dozed, for she woke with a start in the wee hours of the night, frozen to the bone.

Eirian still slept. The tincture Haman had given her was strong. Ethelan shivered and drew her furs tighter around her, not that they would do anything to warm her metal armor. No one had come to the tent in the night. That meant that Haman was dead. She sent a prayer to the Maker that Nathaniel and Bron had escaped with their lives. She couldn’t lose them. Not now.

Lothering had seen so much loss. It had no use for any more. Ethelan had made a few friends in Lothering, once upon a time. Sten, whom she respected more than any warrior. She had gone with him to Par Vollen after she defeated the archdemon. Then, she had returned to Ferelden, and she never saw him again. Leliana, whom she loved like the sister she always needed. She had not allowed Ethelan to join her in Orlais to hunt Marjolaine. It had been some time since she had heard from her. She stopped replying to letters once the new Divine had been chosen. Ethelan couldn’t help but feel the two events were linked.

Friends and family should not rise and fall like the tide, Ethelan thought. Nor should villages and monarchs. Nor should love and happiness. These things should be constants. Safety, comfort, peace. All these things. The world deserved not to suffer.

Ethelan was shaken from her musings as Eirian stirred. The human woman moaned, low and pitiful. She mumbled something Ethelan did not quite hear.

“What was that?” she asked, leaning in.

“Let me die,” she groaned. “Let me die.”

“You’re safe,” Ethelan whispered. “Haman is dead. My name is Mahariel. I’m a Grey Warden. I’m here to rescue you. Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.” That was a lie. Ethelan wanted to be out of Lothering as soon as possible.

“Haman’s… dead?” Eirian turned to squint at Ethelan. “Then the rest of these brutes will kill us for sure.”

“No,” Ethelan said. “I can get us out of here.”

Eirian moaned again, rolling into the pillow. “His smell… it’s everywhere. The nightmares… Oh, Andraste. Just let me die.”

“It will be okay,” Ethelan said. “We can go whenever you’re ready to move. It’s cold out. We won’t make it far past Lothering, but I can get us to safety.”

“We’ll escape Lothering just to die in the snow,” Eirian wailed. “Why don’t you just kill me now!”

“No one’s dying,” Ethelan said. “Bron is waiting for you. She came to rescue you.”

“Bron?” Eirian face flashed a shadow of hope. “Bron came to rescue me? Where is she now?”

“On her way back to Redcliffe,” Ethelan said. “I can take you to her, but you need to get up. Can you walk?”

Eirian nodded. She rustled in the bedroll and struggled to her feet. She teetered, and Ethelan rose quickly to steady her. She let the woman lean on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her. With a bit of effort, she guided her from the tent into the frigid night air.

Eirian was poorly dressed for the cold, but it was all they had. Ethelan wrapped her furs around the other woman to stop her shivering. Not a soul was awake. Ethelan almost laughed for joy. They could simply walk out of Lothering.

They made it as far as the east road before they ran into any trouble. Up ahead, Ethelan caught sight of something moving in the darkness. She pulled Eirian back against a stack of barrels. A guard prowled back and forth along the path, cutting Lothering off from the outside world. Ethelan contemplated dispatching him. Her wrist had stopped bleeding a while ago, but her entire arm felt weak, and she was not certain if she could shoot her bow with enough accuracy to take the guard out. She should have tended to her injury in Haman’s tent. Once they were out of Lothering, she would break to apply an elfroot poultice.

“We need to get past that watchman,” Ethelan whispered. “I’m not sure if my bow arm is good enough to shoot, but I’m going to try to take him out.”

“Are you hurt?” Eirian frowned.

“Killer tried to live up to his name,” Ethelan grimaced, holding up her tattered arm. “Cut straight through fur and metal.”

“That beast was half mabari,” Eirian said. “I’m glad it’s dead.”

Ethelan moved to draw her bow. Eirian placed a halting hand on her arm.

“No. Don’t strain yourself. I can… I can take care of it,” she said.

“Eirian, you just woke up after being drugged for Maker knows how long,” Ethelan argued. “You’re in no condition to fire a bow.”

“I don’t need a bow,” Eirian said.

“What do you intend to do?”

Eirian stepped forward away from the shelter of the barrels. She outstretched her hands toward the guard. Ethelan watched with wonder as pale lavender light emanated from Eirian’s palms, zapping toward the guard and knocking him cleanly to the ground with no more sound than a soft gust. Eirian staggered backwards, and Ethelan caught her, grinning.

“You’re a mage! _That’s_ useful! Are you alright?”

Eirian straightened out, gripping her head. “Yes… I’m fine. That took more out of me than it should have. You said you’re a Grey Warden, right? You won’t report me to the templars, will you?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” Ethelan said. “For now, let’s just get out of here.”

They hurried past the guard onto the path. All around were scattered signs of a struggle. Dark stains cut through the snow and dirt, visible even on the blighted earth. Ethelan stepped over a few broken arrows gingerly. She kept her eyes peeled for signs of her companions, but all she found was torn cloth and hordes of footprints. Eirian staggered after her, gaping at the remnants of battle.

“You don’t think any of this was Bron, do you?” she asked. “She’s alright, isn’t she?”

“Bron’s capable,” Ethelan said, although she could not keep the uncertainty from her voice. “Plus, she’s with Nathaniel. If she can’t keep herself alive, he can.”

“How can you trust this Nathaniel?” Eirian asked. “Is he competent? Can he look after Bron?”

They passed a small bush on their left side, twisted and gnarled from the taint. In its branches, a lone bandit lay, pierced by three arrows. A silent scream was still on his face.

“That’s Nathaniel’s work,” Ethelan said. “They’ll be fine.”

They walked until the ruins of the Imperial Highway sloped into a more whole section. Ethelan looked up at the ramp of rubble with distaste, her wrist stinging hotly. She sighed and plopped down onto a loose stone, rummaging through her pack.

“I need a break,” she said. “If I don’t treat my arm, I won’t make it back to Redcliffe. I can already feel it getting infected.”

Eirian kneeled down next to her. “Let me see it. I know a little healing magic. Not much, but I think I can handle a dog bite.”

“I’ll need to take off my armor,” Ethelan said. “That’d be really stupid to do in this cold, but I’ve been stupider before. We’re several hours behind Nathaniel and Bron. We don’t have time to waste.”

She removed the torso of her armor as quickly as she could, pulling it down so it hung around her waist. Eirian rolled back Ethelan’s undershirt sleeve carefully, inspecting the wound. It was not as deep as it felt, but metal shrapnel from the broken mail had been festering in it for several hours, and it was already going greenish around the edges. Ethelan winced as Eirian pulled the shards from it one by one. Then, the mage ran her hand over the wound, murmuring soft words out of the corner of her mouth. A gentle blue light glowed over the torn skin. Slowly but surely, the wound knitted back together. Ethelan sighed in relief and brushed her fingers over the white scar.

“You’ll be okay,” Eirian said. “I took away the infection. If it were any deeper, I wouldn’t have managed to knit the skin back together fully, but thankfully your armor took most of the damage.”

“Thank you,” Ethelan said sincerely. She redid her armor, shuddering from the cold. She rose to her feet. “We’ll need to keep moving. Can you climb? We’ll be safer on the Imperial Highway this time of night. Normally it’s inundated with bandits, but we could go for a few hours before we have to stop. Do you have enough energy?”

“I can… make the climb,” Eirian said. “We should keep moving. I want to be as far from Lothering as possible.”

The two women scrabbled up the snowy slope. They pulled themselves up over the edge and looked down the stretch of the Highway. As far as they could see, it was empty. Ethelan thanked the Maker for the streak of luck He had been giving her.

They travelled as the sky turned from black to indigo to gray to white, encountering no living souls along the way. Ethelan kept watch for signs that Nathaniel and Bron had passed that way. Two sets of footprints in the snow, one large and the other smaller, told her that they were at least on the move. Eirian did not speak much as they walked. Ethelan was alone with her thoughts.

She had no idea how many bandits Bron and Nathaniel had taken out. During their mad escape, there seemed to be somewhere around a hundred residing in the camp alone. Many more were still prowling the Imperial Highway. Fighting the bandits as they appeared may have to be the only way forward, at least until their numbers dwindled. Judging from how some of the bandits had responded to seeing Bron in camp without the militia, they were relying on an attack to maintain their advantage. Without the ambush, they would become aimless. Ethelan almost laughed; they had dismantled the bandits’ plans simply by showing up. With a steady assault focused on the Highway within Redcliffe’s borders, the villagers could be rid of their problem within a week or two.

That would certainly please Teagan. As the noon sun poked out from behind the clouds, Ethelan’s mind drifted to the thanks he would surely give her. Her mind flashed with images of his lips on hers, his hands on her body, nothing but passion and sighing and- She took a steadying breath and rubbed the back of her neck. She would drive herself mad with those thoughts, and she needed to be focused. She and Eirian had not rested for several hours, and they were beginning to stagger.

Ethelan’s head perked up when she saw an unusual pillar she recognized. They had camped down off the Highway to south of this area recently. Perhaps a bare cliff face was not the best shelter, but it was familiar, and Ethelan’s bones ached with exhaustion. She led Eirian off the Highway and retraced her steps from the day before.

The sound of fighting greeted them through a thicket of trees. Ethelan drew her bow and warned Eirian to stay back. She crept forward silently, taking up position between two young poplars.

Four bandits had Nathaniel and Bron cornered against the cliff face. Nathaniel grit his teeth and launched an arrow straight through the chest of the bandit directly in front of him. Bron’s sword lay meters away in the snow. She pressed herself into the rock, eyes searching wildly for a way out.

Ethelan knocked an arrow and launched it into the back of one of the bandits’ helmet. The bandit spun around only to be greeted by another arrow directly to his face. He fell to his knees, giving Bron the opportunity to break away from the trap. Nathaniel looked up, his face grey and exhausted and filled with re-found hope.

“How now, Howe!” Ethelan called as she fired off another arrow. It ricocheted off the rock past a bandit’s ear. Nathaniel kicked the bandit in the stomach and spun him around with a follow-up punch.

“Nice of you to join us, Commander!” Nathaniel responded. Bron ran her opponent through with her blade. Nathaniel ducked back from a knife strike.

Bron finished off the final bandit with a powerful swing. There was no time for celebration, though; without hesitating, she turned and charged at Ethelan, still brandishing her sword. Ethelan took a few hasty steps backward, holding her hands up in surrender. Her mind went blank from shock. Bron scittered to a halt a few steps from Ethelan, the tip of her blade just inches from her throat.

“Where’s Eirian?” she snarled.

“She’s over there,” Ethelan spluttered.

Bron sheathed her sword instantly and sprinted through the trees. Ethelan let out a sigh of relief, then turned her attention her Nathaniel. He was regarding her warmly with that not-quite smile curling his lips. She stashed her bow onto her back and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and laughing like a maniac. He caught her and lifted her feet off the ground, swinging her slightly from side to side.

“You’re alive!” she cried. “I’m so happy you’re alive!”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he beamed. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who could walk back into a camp full of people who want to kill her and still live.”

He set her back down on the ground and released her. She clasped her hands on his shoulders. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Are you hurt? You took a nasty bite back in Lothering,” he said, inspecting her arm. “I have a healing poultice, if you-”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve, uh, made a convenient friend.”

As if on cue, Bron and Eirian reentered the clearing. Standing together, Ethelan could see the resemblance between them. They had the same mousy brown hair, the same square cheekbones, the same small dark eyes. They were beaming widely, arms wrapped around each other.

“Thank you,” Bron said. Her voice broke with emotion. “Thank you so much, Warden-Commander. I’m… sorry for holding a blade to your throat. When the Warden-Constable dragged me away from Lothering, I wanted to go back and find my sister. I blamed you for how helpless I’ve felt. But she’s safe! You rescued her! Thank you so much! How can I ever repay you?”

“No bother, Bron,” Ethelan smiled. “Your happiness is payment enough.”

Eirian looked from Bron to Ethelan to Nathaniel in turn. “Warden-Commander? Warden-Constable? Then you’re… you’re the bleeding Hero of Ferelden!”

Ethelan chuckled. “Did I forget to mention that? Pity.”

Eirian dropped to her knee. “My lady,” she breathed. “It’s an honor. I owe you my life.”

“Rise,” Ethelan commanded. “You owe me nothing. Nate, how did you end up here?”

“We went to the first spot you would be able to find again and waited,” he shrugged. “We planned to give you one day to find us, then move on to Redcliffe.”

“I was going to go back for Eirian,” Bron corrected.

Nathaniel looked miffed. “Never mind that. She’s here now. But, you two should rest. There will be time to exchange stories on the road.”

Ethelan shared a look with Eirian. The mage’s face was gray and drooping, a stale look in her eye. “We _need_ a rest.”

Eirian shook her head savagely. “I don’t need to sleep. We should keep moving.”

“Eirian, you’ve been going nonstop for hours after being held captive,” Ethelan protested. “You need to rest.”

“No,” Eirian said. “I can’t risk the nightmares.”

Bron paled. She grasped her sister’s hands. “Eirian. Did you-”

“No,” she said. “I’m not possessed. My dreams were… horrible. Demons taunted me for days, tormented me, tried to break into my mind. But I didn’t let them. I was almost taken by a despair demon when I awoke to find the Hero of Ferelden by my side. She saved my life.”

“I did nothing,” Ethelan pointed out. “You woke up yourself, _and_ got us out of Lothering.”

“We can keep moving later,” Nathaniel added. “Right now, you need a break. You’re no use to us asleep on your feet.”

“If you won’t sleep, then rest,” Bron begged. “At least until sundown.”

Eirian hesitated. “Fine,” she relented. “But then we should keep moving. More bandits may find us off the Imperial Highway. We should not waste too much time.”

Nathaniel and Bron set up two tents. Ethelan thanked them and stumbled into one. Her entire body ached. She had not realized exactly how tired she was until she crawled into the bedroll. Her mind stopped working. Her breathing slowed down. She was asleep as her head hit the pillow.

When she awoke, the moon was high in the sky. She emerged from the tent and saw Nathaniel and Bron sitting around a blazing fire. They turned their heads to her. She took a seat between them on the cold ground.

“Is Haman dead?” Ethelan asked.

Bron nodded into the fire. Her eyes glowed demonically in the light. “I gutted him myself.”

Ethelan pursed her lips. “Good,” she said with some difficulty. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how he treated you. No one deserves that.”

“Thank you, Warden-Commander.”

Ethelan caught traces of annoyance in Bron’s voice. She tried a different tactic.

“Was he important?”

Bron looked up. “Among the bandits? Well, his plan was. Without that plan, they have no way forward. They’re just a loose band of criminals, my lady. They don’t know how to wage a war.”

“Good,” Ethelan said. “We can handle that, then.”

“You didn’t mention your sister was a mage,” Nathaniel muttered to Bron. Bron frowned.

“Would you have rescued her if I did? She’s a good woman. She doesn’t do blood magic or anything. She’s not very powerful, so she doesn’t need to be in the Circle.”

“Not very powerful?” Ethelan laughed. “She seems pretty competent to me.”

Bron shook her head. “That’s not right. She was never very good at spells.”

“Maybe I just don’t know anything about magic,” Ethelan mumbled.

The fire crackled. An owl hooted in a nearby tree. Nathaniel leaned back on his arms.

“So,” he said casually. “Arl Teagan.”

Ethelan felt her cheeks grow hot. She scowled at him. “What about him?”

Bron rolled her eyes. “Really, Warden-Commander. It’s plain to anyone with eyes. I don’t see why you’re hiding it. He’s an arl, you’re an arlessa. There’s nothing stopping you from pursuing an open relationship.”

“You’re always so odd about romance,” Nathaniel commented. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your advice to not date companions, does it?”

Ethelan swallowed. “We both know that only ends in tears, Nate. Please leave me alone. There are things you don’t understand. People are dead. Hearts are broken. An idiot is sitting on the throne of Ferelden. There are bigger problems than my love life.”

“Like when we’re leaving for Redcliffe,” Nathaniel agreed. He rose to his feet and brushed the snow off his armor. “I think we should wake Eirian.”  

They travelled odd hours back to Redcliffe. The Highway was clearest in the early hours of the morning, and they found they could move quicker by avoiding combat. When the sun reached its zenith in the sky, they veered off the road to make camp. If their course proceeded as planned, they would be back in Redcliffe with seven days thrown away. Ethelan mentally ticked off the days until she would be safe in the village, alone with Teagan and his gratitude that she still lived.

She could not allow him to occupy her thoughts too often, though, no matter how much they heated her mind. Bandits still roved the Imperial Highway, and they could not avoid them all. In the three days since they all met up beneath the cliff, they faced combat five times. Once, Nathaniel received a stab wound in his abdomen. Another time, Bron hit her head and sustained a concussion. Eirian worked tirelessly on the injured to be certain that their wounds would not be lasting, but taking such hits in the first place was not ideal. The travelers were wary at all hours of the night, even as the Highway sloped down onto a well-worn dirt path.

Ethelan was stricken with a sudden memory as they looked out over Redcliffe under the moon. She tensed, suddenly lost between the then and the now.

_The sky was gold. That was important; dire, even. The gloaming time was just around the corner, and after that… they would survive the night. They had survived worse. They were prepared._

_Ethelan stood overlooking Redcliffe, fingers running along the feathers of her arrows. Her jaw was set and her shoulders were tense, but she had no reservations. These people needed help. She would see them through._

_Alistair coughed, and she looked at him. She knew he could see the hesitation in her eyes, the struggle not to see him as_ prince royal bastard _, even though she had assured him nothing would change. What guilted her more was that she knew he understood. Neither of them were happy about it._

_“So. Ethelan.”_

_Her face broke into a smile. “Ooh, your official voice. What’s up, acorn?”_

_He cleared his throat. “So, you’ve, uh, you’ve met my uncle. Bann Teagan.”_

_Ethelan nodded. “That I have. Is there something I should know about him? Did he make you scrub the floors with nothing but a toothbrush and some lye?”_

_“No, no, nothing like that,” Alistair said, waving his hands. “He was actually always lovely. I only met him a few times. He’s a good man. Which is, uh, actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”_

_“Worried I might leave you for him?” she snickered._

_“Well- not exactly. Were you- were you_ flirting _with him?”_

_Ethelan laughed. “What? You mean- in the chantry?”_

_“I noticed some… banter between you and Bann Teagan. Flirting, if you will.”_

_She looked back over the town and rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Jealous, acorn?”_

_Alistair scoffed. “A little? Was he_ flirting back _?”_

_Ethelan fixed him with a mischievous smile. “Maybe.”_

_“Well, you can’t flirt with him! He’s my uncle! And he’s… old!”_

_“He’s not_ that _old,” she laughed. “He’s charming. And very handsome.”_

_“He’s not handsome! Well, I_ guess _he’s handsome. But he’s- he’s my uncle! And he’s old!”_

_“So is the Antivan brandy I gave Zevran a while back, but that still tastes delicious,” she shot back._

_Alistair’s face turned beet red. “Don’t- don’t_ taste _my uncle! And don’t flirt with him, either! He’ll charm you right up and then you’ll-”_

_“Taste some fine Rainesfere brandy?”_

_Alistair let out a muffled little scream. He covered his face with his hand. “I can’t even look at you right now. There are images in my mind I can never erase, you know that?”_

_Ethelan patted him on the back. “If it bothers you, I will stop. I didn’t mean to slight you. You are also very handsome and charming. We Dalish prefer acorns to brandy, you know.” She reached up and tugged his earlobe gently. “I love you, silly.”_

_Alistair sighed. “I love you too. But now I can’t stop thinking about you and Teagan…_ tasting _each other.”_

_“Tell you what, acorn,” Ethelan said. “After this night is over and everyone is safe and we have rested and sorted this all out,_ we _can_ taste _each other, and you won’t have to worry about what-it-all-could-be’s between me and random members of your adopted family. Sound good?”_

_Alistair smiled through half-lidded eyes and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Why, my dear,” he said, pulling her in, “that sounds perfect.”_

_“Get a room, you two,” Morrigan gagged._

_The gold sky faded to purple, and the night truly began._    

An arrow of ice pierced her chest. She clutched idly at it and sucked in a sharp breath. It had been so long since she had seriously thought about Alistair like that. She had been so busy on the road that he had slipped her mind. But here, back in Redcliffe, his voice and his nose and his lips and his shoulders and his smell was everywhere. Her ribs collapsed, crunched down into each other and dissolved in the acid of her stomach.

The world shimmered like the Fade as they moved in slow motion to the castle. Every step was taken in molasses. Every sound seemed to happen both too quickly and too slowly. All Ethelan could focus on was the pain clawing at her heart. The scab had been reopened. Blood was dripping into her lungs.

But then, she was in an orange hall, and the air was warm, and she saw herself seeing a servant run off to fetch the arl. And then he appeared in the room, still dressed for the day, all exhaustion draining from his face when he laid eyes on her. He hurried over to her and gripped her in his arms, inspecting her for damage. She breathed in easily and deeply. Alistair’s scent flew from her mind. The past – how it hurt that it was the past – dissipated with a howl of pain as the sun cut through the darkness.

“You were gone an extra day,” Teagan said anxiously. “What happened? Did you get caught in the snow?”

“We ran into some trouble in Lothering,” Ethelan said, shaking her head to clear the insalubrious melancholy from her mind. “We’re all mostly unharmed. Maker, Teagan, I’ve missed you too, but I can feel you gripping me through my mail. This is Bron’s sister, Eirian. The one we went to rescue. Ah, I mean, the one we just happened to accidentally rescue.”

He released her and turned his attention to the rest of the party. Eirian bowed.

“My lord,” she said. “I understand you sacrificed training time under the Warden-Commander and the Warden-Constable in order to arrange for my rescue. I am forever indebted.”

“You’re safe,” Teagan said. “That’s all that matters.”

Eirian looked stricken. “My lord.”

Teagan chuckled. “There’s no stopping the Hero of Ferelden when she puts her mind to something. I couldn’t have kept her here when you needed help.”

“Nonetheless, I am grateful,” Eirian insisted.

“We scouted Lothering,” Nathaniel said. “All of Bron’s information was accurate. There seemed to be somewhere around one hundred thirty men in the village and on the Imperial Highway. These men are tough, and their numbers are strong, but they’re still just bandits. In time, we can clear them out of Redcliffe for good.”

“We may have stirred some trouble up in their base, though,” Ethelan admitted. “They were expecting an attack from the Redcliffe militia. When Bron came without backup, their plans went out the window. I have no idea what they will do now.”

“They might come looking for the woman who split Haman open on a stump,” Nathaniel commented. “But there’s no way to tell that she came to Redcliffe, or even survived the escape.”

“We will be cautious, then,” Teagan said. “It seems unlikely we will see an organized attack, but we cannot rule it out. We will be ready for anything. What course of action do you suggest?”

“Your problems will be solved with time, my lord,” Nathaniel said. “Send the militia to the Highway to hunt the bandits down, and within a few weeks they’ll either die out or move on. You won’t need to leave the arling, and Redcliffe will stay safe.”

“That may take longer than is necessary,” Bron said. “Once you’ve weakened the bandits on the road, you would be able to launch a proper attack on their base in Lothering to wipe the rest out. South Reach probably doesn’t want anything to do with Lothering anyway. Don’t think you’ll have no trouble going in quietly and cleaning that scum out.”

Teagan looked at Ethelan. “Two viable options. One would take longer, but avoid trouble with the Bannorn. The other may save time, but requires me to receive permission from Arl Bryland of South Reach. What do you think, Commander?”

“You’re asking me? That’s your decision, my lord. We can train the militia to fight against these bandits’ tactics, as we intended to before,” Ethelan said. “There’s no armory or anything like that in Lothering to sack. This will simply have to be fought the old-fashioned way. What that means is up to you. Although, it looked like we took out a lot of the bandits in our escape.”

Nathaniel nodded. “What’s important is that we shook up their plans. For a brief time, you have the upper hand, my lord. I suggest you take advantage of it while it lasts.”

“Then we will send out parties to the Highway to hunt the bandits,” Teagan decided. “In this case, offense is the best defense. I shall write to Arl Bryland tomorrow. If he grants his blessing, we will march on Lothering. If not, we will not risk the suspicion of the Bannorn. For as much as I’d like to avoid a political mess, I want these bandits out of Redcliffe. If they are truly as disorganized as you say, I trust our militia is strong enough to defeat them.”

Ethelan nodded. “We stand by whatever action you take, my lord. I trust you.”

He smiled at her, his eyes glimmering in the torchlight. “Thank you, Commander. Tell me, what came of your time in Lothering?”

“It’s quite the tale, my lord,” Bron said.

“I think we have time for a story,” Teagan said. They conceded, too tired from the journey to put up a fight.

The five of them sat along the wooden seats in the hall, leaning on the long tables as the fire burned well into the night. Ethelan recounted the events of the past week, with interjections and corrections from Nathaniel and Bron. When it came to their escape from Lothering, Nathaniel told of grabbing Bron by the arm and fleeing along the path, fighting their way through a score of bandits in the process. Teagan listened to their tale silently, his eyes flickering back and forth between Ethelan and Nathaniel.

When he had been sufficiently caught up, he rested his chin in his hands and frowned at Ethelan. “This is the truth?”

“Do you doubt it?” she asked.

“No, I… Forgive me. It just seems that everywhere you go, blood and adventure follows. Surely you must wonder sometimes if this is all worth it?”

“Good came out of it,” Ethelan said. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

“Haman is dead,” Bron muttered. “Eirian is free. I would sell all of my time just for those two things alone.”

“These things were hard-won, my lady,” Teagan replied.

“Your realm is politics, ours is battle,” Ethelan shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s just how we have to do things. And sometimes, we’re just people helping people.”

Teagan looked at her for longer than he perhaps should have, an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he drew in a breath. “Perhaps you’re right. But it’s late. You’ve all had a taxing week. It’s time for rest.”

They bid their farewells gratefully. Bron and Eirian melted from the castle into the night air, together and safe. Nathaniel padded up to his room. Teagan and Ethelan were alone in the hall for a moment. Then, without needing to confer with the other, they headed together for Teagan’s chambers.

The second they closed the door, Teagan was pulling off her fur coat. “Take off your armor,” he commanded. She complied as quickly as she could. She had barely thrown the last of her padding off before he pulled her roughly to him, hands on her hips, and pressed his lips to her neck.

She tipped her head back and moaned, her hands splayed across his chest. His mouth wandered up to her jaw, then her mouth, meeting her lips intensely. He pressed her closer to him and breathed in sharply.

“Every day without you has been torture,” he spoke into the corner of her lips. His hands roamed under her shirt, pressing hard against her skin. “I’ve longed for you every day you’ve been away.”

“Oh, Maker,” she breathed. He kissed the air out of her. When he trailed his lips in a hot line down her neck to her collarbones, her mind scrambled.

“Your skin is frozen,” he murmured. He swiped his tongue along the ridge of her clavicle. “You could’ve died in the snow.”

“I’m not dead,” she gasped. “Kiss me.”

Their lips met again, and he walked her backwards until her legs bumped against the bed. He eased her down onto it, never breaking the kiss the entire time. He pulled off his tunic. Her hands fumbled around his belt.

Her mind was on fire as he helped her out of her own clothes, still planting hot-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach. As they both fell backwards onto the bed, she stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing but the heat behind her eyes. The winter melted away. The night was red. All that mattered was his skin on hers.

She had thought that that night in Denerim a month ago was the best she had ever had. Little did she know what lied in store for her in Redcliffe.       

 

Quest Completed:

**Barrels Out of Brondage**

Ethelan rescued Bron’s sister from Lothering. Bron killed Haman.

 

The Redcliffe militia reacted well to the Grey Wardens’ training. Within days, they were seeking out bandits on the Imperial Highway within Redcliffe, bringing back reports of stunning victories against even large ambush groups. The number of bandits began to drastically drop. The road cleared up. The bandits just couldn’t compete.

Teagan received a letter back from Arl Bryland within a few days. With the roads clear, Hylan led the militia in a march on Lothering. Ethelan and Nathaniel fought alongside Redcliffe with pride, observing the discipline and spirit they had picked up in such a short amount of time. They were good people, those Redcliffe villagers. Probably the best people in Ferelden, Ethelan thought. Certainly not half-bad soldiers, if anything.

It was as Ethelan had thought; without the ambush on the militia, the bandits had no plan. They could not hold out against the tactics of Vigil’s Keep, or the hearts of Redcliffe’s men. The bandits fell easily. Many were defeated, but many more were taken in for trial. Ethelan giggled to watch Teagan tear his hair out at all the paperwork. She figured it was a fair price to pay for a timely victory.

And then, it was all over. Lothering was left to the reconstructionists. Redcliffe began to receive visitors again. Ethelan chuckled to herself one morning. Bron had been right the entire time. Redcliffe’s problems really had been solved by going to Lothering.

Ethelan spent a little over one formulaic week back in Redcliffe after their decisive move on Lothering. Mornings were spent drilling the militia and training the men to stand as proud and true as the soldiers of Vigil’s Keep. Afternoons were spent seeing to it that the village was well-provided for in the harsh winter. Evenings were spent in Teagan’s bed, forgetting all the stale memories of a Redcliffe from the past and forging new ones more suitable for the Hero of Ferelden. She spent her free time getting to know Bron and her sister, keeping an eye on the mage, whom she did not turn in to the templars. Sometimes, she would find herself all alone in the village, and would look up at the cliffs and the moon and feel nothing but contentment.

She didn’t quite know what had changed, but she wasn’t going to question it. For once, she was happy. Things like that needed not be taken for granted.

Just as she was getting used to her stay, however, duty called her away. She could think of no more reasons to stay in Redcliffe. The militia was in good shape. The trouble had passed. The month of Guardian threatened to spill into Drakonis. Redcliffe was sufficiently saved again.

The villagers threw a great party on the final night before Ethelan and Nathaniel departed for Amaranthine. Teagan swore up and down that he had nothing to do with it, but every so often Ethelan caught him receiving reports of preparations. Nonetheless, it was a brilliant excuse to be out of armor for a little while. Ethelan danced among the villagers under the stars and colorful banners, and, with all the fires burning around, the winter night was almost warm.

Sometime through the night, after Ethelan had forced Nathaniel to dance with her for three consecutive songs, she flopped down onto a bench and allowed someone to shove a mug of ale into her hands. She took a deep pull merrily, wiping at the sweat on her brow.

Eirian slid onto the bench next to her. Her face had been haunted since Ethelan had met her, but tonight, the shadows under her eyes seemed to smudge and blend into soft lines and rosy cheeks. She held a mug of her own, and she seemed, perhaps, safe.

“I have a request to make,” Eirian said. “I know I can’t ask anything of you, my lady; I owe you my life. But I was wondering if you might do one more favor for me.”

Ethelan smiled at her. “Sure, Eirian. What’s up?”

Eirian took a sip of her ale. “I would like to become a Grey Warden.”

Ethelan bit her lip. “Are you certain? This isn’t a life you just choose willy-nilly.”

“I’ve thought a lot about it,” Eirian said. “For one thing, I’m a mage. I’m not safe as an apostate. Perhaps with the Grey Wardens, I can use what I am for the greater good. For another, I feel so… angry, and _distraught_ , all the time. What Haman did to me… what he did to my sister… I can’t live with it. Men like him would never have corrupted Lothering if there hadn’t been a Blight. It was the darkspawn who stole my life from me and allowed those evil bandits to fill a vacuum. I want to fight back however I can. I want to destroy those darkspawn for all they’ve done to me.”

Ethelan was silent, nodding to herself. Then, she said, “There are better reasons to join the Order… But there are also worse. Some of us didn’t have the agency to choose this life, and while I value your ability to come to this decision of your own accord, you must know that if you cannot find the completion you seek in the Order, there’s no going back. The life of a Grey Warden is one of sacrifice. It is not an easy fix to your problems.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Eirian said quickly. “I think this is right for me. Anyway, I want to serve you. I must repay you for my life. The only way I can think to do this is to become a Grey Warden.”

Ethelan smiled wryly. “There’s no convincing you to live and let live, eh?”

“I’m afraid not, my lady.”

“Well,” Ethelan said. “That’s that. The Grey Wardens would be honored to accept you as a Warden recruit. Maker knows we could use more mages like you.”

Eirian nodded, a slight smile on her face. “Thank you, Warden-Commander. I will not let you down.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ethelan smiled. She clinked her mug against Eirian’s. “To catharsis.”

They both drank from their mugs, two women of the Grey sitting elbow to elbow in warm companionship. Ethelan caught sight of Nathaniel dancing with Bron amongst the crowd. She giggled merrily, watching the two struggle not to trip over themselves in their attempts at dancing.

“Bron’s got two left feet,” Eirian commented. “She always has.”

“Nathaniel’s the same way,” Ethelan replied. “Maker, let’s hope they don’t kill anybody.”

A shadow formed over the two women. Ethelan looked up to see Teagan beaming at her.

“My lady,” he said. He inclined his head toward the cliff path behind him. “A word?”

She set her mug down and followed him up the steep incline. It cut through the cliff and ran straight up from the chantry to where had once stood the mill. Once upon a time, she had charged down it, firing arrows into a sea of undead corpses. But that was a long time ago, and the memory was nearly absent from her mind. They came to a stop at the top of the cliff, standing in front of the long-destroyed mill. The lights of the party down below shone a beautiful gold. The air up by the ruins was cool and crisp. Ethelan felt as if she had stepped into another world.

Teagan gently took her hand as they gazed down at the merriment below them. “I’m going to be honest,” he said. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

She smiled at him playfully and jostled his shoulder. “What? The selfless arl admits to wanting something for himself?”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” he said. “I probably deserve this.” His face softened. “I like having you around. You… remind me of what is important in life.”

Redcliffe looked different now, even if it was in subtle ways. New houses had sprung up in the cliffs. Several fences had been mended. The chantry door had turned a different color. The air of the village was peaceful. Memories could melt there, just like the snow from the previous week. Life moved on in Redcliffe, and there, time was not the enemy. Even duty didn’t seem so bad a word there.

“I know what you mean,” Ethelan murmured. “I feel the same way about you.”

His fingers tightened around her hand. “I don’t know what will become of… whatever is between us. But I would very much like for it not to end.”

“Me too,” she said.

“I don’t know how realistic that is,” he sighed, looking up towards the stars. “But I’m more than willing to try. I won’t promise you anything, because I can’t. I owe you that much.”

She nodded. “Thank you. You know that whatever happens, however life moves us around, I still love you, right, Teagan? No matter what, you’re family.”

He chuckled. “Well, that does make what I’m about to do a little more awkward. So, thanks for that.”

He brushed his palm along her cheek and tilted her head up to his. He kissed her softly, letting the wind and the moonlight and the glow of the party do with them what they would. Their lips drifted apart, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He smiled at her.

“I love you too, Ethelan.”

The two nobles – one born, the other made – walked down the hill together, hand in hand, and rejoined the party. The road tomorrow would carry them away, but tonight, before Redcliffe and Amaranthine bid a temporary goodbye, they would allow themselves to be warm and carefree and happy.

 

Quest Completed:

**Trouble with Bandits**

Ethelan successfully aided Redcliffe in removing the bandits.


	2. Part 2: Codex entry: My Dearest, Ethelan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know how you run around talking to all your companions while you’re in your home base before you set out on quests

Codex entry: My Dearest, Ethelan

_A collection of letters exchanged between Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe and Commander of the Grey Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae, Arlessa of Amaranthine._

 

Dear ~~Bann~~ Arl Teagan,

Writing to let you know we made it to Vigil’s Keep safely. No problems on the road. No bandits, either. Turns out nobody is as mad as the bandits around Redcliffe. It’s very cold.

I hope the area is staying clear. If more problems arise, you know where to find me. Although, next time, I think I might find an aravel. Walking across the country in the snow is not fun, and I would not recommend it. My toes are frozen.

I’m only kidding. Nathaniel and I picked up our horses in the town we left them in. I’m not completely mad.

I miss Redcliffe already. It’s funny to think that two weeks of training militiamen and fighting bandits is what I’d call a vacation. Lots of the same in Amaranthine, except with less fighting and more soldiers and less clean air. I’ve only been back a day and I’m going stir crazy. It’s the Dalish in me – I miss the wilderness. I’m an outdoor cat!

I miss you, too. _(An ink spot stains the page, as if the pen was held over the vellum for a long time after the last sentence.)_ I’m not sure what else to say. I learned how to write letters as an arlessa. Help me out here?

 

Lots of love,

E.M.S.

* * *

My dear Commander,

You’re doing fine with your letters. Simply write what comes to your mind. I certainly will not judge you for your handwriting, or for your sentences, or for the ink stains in between your words.

In all seriousness, though, you will improve. Have patience, my friend. Time will tell.

I’m relieved to hear that you’ve arrived in Amaranthine safely. I must confess I felt some degree of worry for you and your companions as you left Redcliffe. The road remains clear of banditry, but I know not how other parts of Ferelden fare at the moment. As for travelling by foot, I might suggest using your influence as arlessa to procure a carriage. I imagine Warden-Constable Nathaniel was none too pleased with your Dalish wiles. But, that is between you and him.

Redcliffe Village misses you greatly. Already there has been talk of when you will come next, and if you will stay as long, and who you will take back with you to become a Grey Warden. Don’t think you managed to sneak Lady Eirian away without the villagers noticing. She is being honored as a mysterious warrior, whisked away by the Hero of Ferelden to serve a higher purpose. I haven’t the heart to tell them what I know of the finer points of the Order.

As always, I am extremely busy. Redcliffe has become rather important in Ferelden’s politics recently. The Bannorn is breathing down my neck at all times of the day. I confess to having more time for my responsibilities now that the bandits are taken care of, but if I’m to be perfectly honest, I would rather have no time at all than more time to devote to letter-writing and “friendly” correspondences. When I say letter-writing, I am of course excluding writing to you from the mix. I rather enjoy writing to you. I think I shall continue.

The villagers are not the only ones who miss you. I think of you every hour. I think perhaps I did not realize how much you mean to me until you went to Lothering. Until then, I had repressed my fixation on you, wrote it off as a foolish fancy not worthy of entertaining. I confess to brief lapses in resolution in Denerim and the first several days of your stay. I thought perhaps I might be stronger than I am. But you, my lady, seem so intent to prove me wrong. For three years I have pushed aside thoughts of what it might be like to have you for my own. Now that I have you, I am… reluctant to let you go. I hold out hope that I will see you again soon. Perhaps that will satisfy some of my longing.

I shan’t keep you for much longer, my lady. I anxiously await your response. Until we meet again, my dear.

 

Affectionately,

Arl Teagan Guerrin

* * *

My dearest arl,

Mock my writing more, why don’t you. It’s legible and that’s all that matters. Not everyone can write in clear script and big paragraphs.

Maker, I love you.

You saved the mushy bits ‘til the end. I’ll do that too.

Today, Oghren – you remember Oghren – got drunk and tried to tell me a story about how he fought off a group of darkspawn all by himself in the Deep Roads. First he started off by saying it was two genlocks, but by the end of the story, he had singlehandedly defeated eleven ogres all by himself. Imagine! Eleven ogres grown from two genlocks! Monstrous. He somehow makes me feel both exasperation and love. I wish he’d drink just a little less. Can’t be good for him. Maybe forgetting isn’t always a good thing? Must be better ways to cope.

Eirian completed the Joining. She’s now a full-fledged Grey Warden. Little grim, very determined. Lots of pent-up anger and what a friend of mine used to call melancholy. She reminds me of an elf I once knew who disappeared at the Siege of Vigil’s Keep. Velanna. I don’t trust it when bodies go missing around darkspawn. She’s out there, somewhere. I don’t ever want to find her. But part of me does. Point is, Eirian is now a Warden. I hope that’s a good thing.

Send my love to the village. I hope business brings me back sometime soon. I can always come to recruit more Grey Wardens. We need more good men and women. Redcliffe’s full of them.

Mushy bits! Speaking of good men in Redcliffe, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m not as good with my words as you are. I think like this. Choppy. Lots of emotions. Not sure what’s what. But I know one thing – I miss you. I miss having you next to me. I miss how calm you make me feel. I miss how you always know what to say – keep writing to me! It’s the next best thing to hearing your voice. I miss kissing you. I really miss sleeping with you. Actually, I miss that the most right now. Is that too risqué to put in a letter? Whatever. It’s true. Look! I wrote a long paragraph too!

I’ll keep practicing writing letters if you keep sending them. Take good care of yourself. Remember to sleep and eat. Don’t start drinking a lot of alcohol. Remember to laugh! You’ll be okay. You remind me to rise to my duty. Someone’s got to, right?

Lots of kisses,

E.M.S

* * *

My dearest, arlessa,

I’ve written you two letters this time. One is in response to your query of whether or not it was appropriate to mention certain desires in a letter. The other is this one. You may read them in whatever order you like.

The Bannorn is growing agitated over the aid Redcliffe received from Amaranthine nearly a month ago. I’ve been doing my best to smooth some ruffled feathers, but my word is not enough to convince them that Redcliffe poses no threat to the rest of Ferelden. They worry that Vigil’s Keep’s training gives the Redcliffe militia an unfair advantage over the other bannorns and arlings, and should we desire more power, we could easily take it. This opinion of course depends on several preposterous assumptions: that Redcliffe’s militia is a permanent military force, that Redcliffe has any desire to conquer its neighbors, that Redcliffe received enough training to form a cohesive military unit, etc. One assumes you have also heard rumblings of the Bannorn’s fears. I don’t doubt Amaranthine is under close, and loud, scrutiny. Our so-called “alliance” has even drawn the attention of the king. I expect he will be contacting you soon to get to the bottom of this mess before it turns violent.

What’s more, despite receiving Arl Bryland’s express permission to march into Lothering, some of the Bannorn are claiming Redcliffe invaded South Reach. Frankly, my dear, this claim makes me want to bash my head against my desk. It seems no matter how many times I explain the situation, someone is always willing to yell “war” louder. Lothering is not even truly a part of South Reach arling anymore! Forgive me. I won’t berate you with my frustrations for the Bannorn’s lunacy.

By the time this letter reaches you, I suspect we will have more to discuss in person. You will understand what that means soon enough.

On a different note, in regards to your story about Oghren, I understand there is much you cannot say about the Grey Wardens to outsiders, but it seems the only information you let slip is of the more casual and worrying nature. Had I not known the reach of your organization, your stories alone would convince me that you are mostly a collection of drunks and miscreants who happen to fight darkspawn. I know that is not true, but you certainly share the most colorful tales.

Let’s hope we can sort through this trouble. As I’m sure you can gather from the other letter enclosed with this one, I miss you greatly. I hope to see you soon enough. I shall keep you in my thoughts always, my dear.

 

Yours, yours, yours,

Arl Teagan Guerrin

 

_(The other letter is mysteriously missing.)_

* * *

Teagan’s letters lay on Ethelan’s desk just a little way from her bed as she slept. Nearly a month had passed since they had last seen each other, and the effect on her psyche was palpable. She twisted and turned in her bed, eyes scrunched tight. In the coldness of night, her fists clutched at the bedsheets as her mind wandered the darkest parts of the Fade.

              

 _The lights in the Arl of Denerim’s estate were dim. It grated against the plates of her mind, rubbing her the wrong way and filling her with the dread that something dark and grey was chasing her down those endless plush hallways. It wasn’t the estate she remembered, but it_ was _inarguably the Arl of Denerim’s. She did not hear the pursuing, pounding footsteps so much as feel them, and every beat of twisted, garish metal on endless carved cold stone echoed in her chest. The Deep Roads stretched out into infinity beyond her. The stench of Oghren’s ale overpowered her nose, flooding her mind with its damask fog of sweet musky liquor._

_A broodmother gurgled just behind her. Her neck hair prickled. Her veins went icy white. She bolted into the darkness._

“Lethallan, this way!” _Alistair’s voice echoed, but it was Tamlen who spoke through her acorn’s detached lips._

_~~Alistair Tamlen~~ led her into a second cavern. She held her breath as she walked forward, feeling her way through the dark. All was silent save for the rush of the Fade around her ears. She saw nothing. Where was ~~Alistair Tamlen~~? He needed her help. Something horrible was going to happen to him. She needed to find him or he would-. He needed her help. Where was he? Where was he? Where was he?_

_He would-_

_Stark eerie silver against the endless choking black stood the mirror, grinning like Fen’harel. Her heart seized. She fell backwards. Her scream ripped her awake._ ~~~~

She woke with a start, bolting upright in her bed. Without pause, she threw back the covers and hurried from her chambers.

The grass in the courtyard was wet with moonlight. The night’s soft light always splashed into Vigil’s Keep when Ethelan went out to clear her mind. The breeze this time of year, the earliest days of Cloudreach, was still chilly, but it lacked the bite of winter. She sucked as much of it into her lungs as she could. Her heart still pounded. Out in the Vigil’s courtyard, all was still. She moved directly to her same old spot in the middle of the grass and sat. The nights turned horrifyingly grey often enough that all this was reflex, mindless.

The dreams came so often since Vigil’s Keep was destroyed. Or was it since the Mother died? That must have been it. Sometimes the dreams wove Ethelan into horrid sordid deals with the Architect, and she jolted awake to the consuming sensation of disgust scrawled into the inside of her skin.

It hadn’t been like this in Redcliffe. Redcliffe was home to her. And Redcliffe had Teagan. At first, he had been her whiskey. When her mind was too full of the dark and the grey, he had been there, smiling and looking pretty in Denerim, and she taken her light from him. She hadn’t intended for it to be more, not at first, but by the time she had realized she was in love with him, it was already too late. Being in love was a wonderful thing – a thing that had happened in Redcliffe. Now, far away from Redcliffe and left alone for a month, the memories of the Grey seeped back in and swallowed her.

The wetness of the courtyard helped. Every damp breath bathed the torment from her mind. Still, if Teagan were there...

Sometimes, when he was awoken by nightmares, Nathaniel joined her in her midnight strolls. Tonight, however, she was alone. She rubbed the pads of her fingers together to reconnect the feeling to her mind. How she wished for the smooth vellum of a letter in her hands. When the world felt so scary and unreal, love was the tether that pulled her back.

It was intoxicating, being in love with Teagan. But everyone medicated differently.

A path broke through her hazy mind when the night guard called for Ethelan’s attention. She flexed her toes in the earth and instinctively reached for her bow, but it was not on her back. She had left it in her room. She looked down on herself. She was in no state to receive visitors, hostile or otherwise. She sighed and smoothed her tunic and tensed to face whoever – _whatever, ready to rip ~~Alistair Tamlen~~ apart and cast him to the mirror, coming too fast_ _to outrun_ – was approaching the gate.

“How many?” she called up.

“Three on horses, Commander,” the guard responded. She relaxed, but only slightly. Humans, most likely. Envoys or travelers. Not darkspawn. “Outfitted well. Led by a man in… hold on… that’s the bleeding king! King Alistair rides from the south, Commander!”

Ethelan felt her skin grow clammy. _He was safe._ But he was here, crossing from the Fade into the waking world. He was the exact opposite of what she needed. She needed Teagan. She needed thoughts of Alistair to go away, not accost her so late.

But he wasn’t just Alistair; he was the king. And, as always when King Alistair was involved, she had no choice but to let him do what he would.

“Open the gate for them,” she croaked.

At one point in her life, she would have thought surprise visits from the king would mean nothing but joy. That was during the war, before she was the Hero of Ferelden and before he dumped her, that ass. Three years of this and she would’ve thought she’d have had it all figured out by now. Perhaps that was giving her too much credit. She was never good at that whole “feelings” thing.

She supposed the Hero and the king were still friends though, in the same way a halla was still a halla once it had been stuffed and mounted by an Orlesian lord. When one relied so deeply on another, and it fell through, trust and love battled it out to decide who would fall and how far. It seemed Ethelan had taken the loss on this one.

The wind blew cold through the Vigil as Alistair and his entourage rode through the gates. A familiar mixture of emotions bubbled to the surface as Ethelan greeted them. Her immediate reaction to seeing Alistair was still joy, followed by that annoying little feeling that the world was ending, and then a drowning sort of chilly numbness. Even after all the years, she still had no idea how one greeted a king who was also a friend and nothing more.

The grass was cold and wet on her knee as she kneeled. “Hello, Your Majesty,” she said.

“Hello, Ethelan,” Alistair said. “Er, Warden-Commander. Hero of Ferelden? What am I supposed to call you? Oh, rise. You don’t need to go through the motions for me.”

Ethelan straightened to her feet, grinning hollowly. “You haven’t quite grasped this whole ‘regal’ thing, have you?”

“I’m- working on it,” Alistair said.

Ethelan opened her mouth to respond, when she finally looked at the men Alistair had brought with him. Her face turned radiant as she caught their eyes. Warmth blossomed through her chest, and she momentarily forgot to be pained at Alistair’s presence.

“Teagan! Bron! _Elgar’nan_!”

“Just Teagan and Bron, I’m afraid,” Teagan said. “Elgar’nan couldn’t join us this evening.”

Her grin turned full. He had come. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him and kiss him and hold him and tell him everything. Tell him about her dreams. Tell him about her days. Hold his hand and listen to him complain about bureaucracy or gush about jousting or recall his family in Ansburg. She wanted to let him crawl inside her skin and make her feel real again.

She would settle for playful banter until then.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Ethelan smiled. “It’s not every day Vigil’s Keep receives the king, an arl, and… a hunter. Bron, why are you here?”

“Arl Teagan invited me to come along,” she said. “Said he could use an extra sword on the road.”

Ethelan grinned. She did so love family reunions.

Alistair dismounted from his horse, and his companions followed suit. He approached Ethelan, and she fought the urge to tug on his ear the way she used to when they were younger. It was her way of tethering him, but he was not hers to tether any longer. He wrapped his arms around her in an armored embrace, and she held her breath and counted the seconds. For just a moment, she threw away sense and let herself believe everything was right again.

He drew back and straightened up. She caught sight of the dregs of regret folding back into his tired smile. She wasn’t the only one who wished for the security of the Blight – and the irony of that was not lost on her. Unfortunately for them, but rather good for the rest of Thedas, those times had passed. Still, what she wouldn’t give for just one more day to sit with him and talk it out.

“I’m afraid this isn’t a pleasure visit,” Alistair said. “I’m here on official royal business. I need you to come to Denerim.”

“Why?” Ethelan asked.

Alistair ran a hand through his hair. “Well, you’ve managed to make a few members of the Bannorn less than happy. If we – and by ‘we’ I mean _you_ – don’t do some serious politicking quickly, things are going to turn ugly.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Ethelan laughed.

Alistair shifted from foot to foot. “Well, it wasn’t my idea. I know you tend to avoid politics as much as possible, so I know you won’t clean this mess up from Amaranthine. That’s why I need you at my court in Denerim; get friendly with the right people, they’ll write back home to the people actually running the bannorns, and we can all avoid civil war and go on our way.”

Ethelan mulled this over. “I’ve got a couple problems with what you just said.”

“What? I thought it was pretty well-thought out. I even said it seriously and everything.”

Ethelan pursed her lips and held up a finger. “One, isn’t civil war a little drastic? I doubt we’re on the brink of civil war.”

“Not in the technical sense,” Alistair said. “Bannorns fight all the time. That doesn’t mean we want them to. And no one can afford to go to battle so soon after the Blight. So, no, if you want to be particular about it, we’re not talking civil war in the nation-wide sense. But a few small armies marching on Amaranthine and Redcliffe? Yeah, well, _that’s_ starting to seem likely.”

“That’s a _bad_ thing,” Teagan added. Ethelan snickered.

“Ye-e-e-es,” Alistair agreed. “What’re your other questions?”

“Two,” Ethelan responded, counting on her fingers. “How come _you’re_ telling me to run off and be politically responsible? You spend all your time _avoiding_ being politically responsible.”

“Right, ah,” Alistair said. “Like I said… Would it surprise you that none of this was my idea?”

Ethelan frowned. Then, she raised her eyebrows in understanding. “Eamon.”

“Eamon,” Alistair confirmed. “It’s not a terrible plan, actually. Everyone knows you don’t do anything from Amaranthine. Having you go and simply make friends with people is actually an easier task. You’re quite good at it.”

Ethelan frowned. She would be the first one to admit she had no head for politics – and she did. Repeatedly. – but this sounded too easy. 

“Do you really think that will work, Alistair? Isn’t that a little… Orlesian?”

“Why, because it’s cunning and indirect? Listen, if it gets the Bannorn off my back, I’ll do it. Or, _you’ll_ do it. I don’t want any part in this.”

“You’re the king,” Teagan reminded him. “It’s your _job_ to have a part in this. Don’t think you can just pass everything off to me and the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Hey, I’m arranging this, aren’t I?” Alistair said. He turned back to Ethelan. “So, you’ll do it, right? I mean, you’ll do it. Right. Think of it as a royal command. Pretty please?”

Ethelan sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. Even beneath his armor, he felt so warm on her palm. Her breath came out in an icy mist. “For you, Alistair, I will do these things. Not for anyone else would I do these things.”

Alistair grinned. His eyes looked everywhere but on her hand touching his arm. “Thank the Maker. I thought I’d have to convince you. Not sure I could do that. You always outwit me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, acorn,” she smiled. “I’m sure you’d think of something.”

Alistair cleared his throat and turned away, hiding his pink cheeks. She let her hand drop to her side. He rubbed the back of his neck and inclined his head toward Teagan and Bron. “So, ahem, you three will ride with me to Denerim to make friends in my court. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“You don’t intend to leave tonight,” Teagan protested.

“What? No,” Alistair said. “But the sooner the better. Ethelan, I assume you’re taking some friends along? Still sticking to the old rule of no more than four at a time?”

“I’ll bring along Nathaniel Howe,” Ethelan said. Alistair made a face. “Hey, none of that. He’s not his father. Besides, he did a lot of the work in Redcliffe. It makes sense to bring him along.”

“To some extent, that’s also why Bron is joining us,” Teagan said. “The viewpoint of someone involved in the whole affair may be crucial to swaying nobles to our side.”

“This sounds like a Landsmeet,” Ethelan said, frowning in alarm. “I thought there aren’t that many nobles in your court at any given time?”

“Yes and no,” Alistair said. “I… may have let slip that you would be there. That’s attracted a few more than usual. Quite a lot of nobles are vying for your attention right now, as it were. _You_ are a popular girl!”

Ethelan turned her eyes to the inky sky. “I hate the Bannorn. I hate it.”

“Aw, it won’t be too bad!” Alistair chirped. “Just think – a chance to rub elbows with Ferelden’s best and brightest!” Teagan snorted. “You’ll love it. Can you leave tomorrow? It’s a two-day ride from here to Denerim. I’d like to return as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Ethelan said. “We can leave tomorrow.” She jabbed a finger at him. “But I’m holding you accountable for any heightened levels of nonsense.”

“There will be no nonsense,” Alistair promised. He grinned. “I almost had you convinced, there, didn’t I?”

Ethelan shook her head and bit her lip in a fond smile. This was the way it was supposed to be. Easy. Warm. The king and the Hero, riding once again. After yet another night of separate beds and strictly friendly familiarity. Her stomach twisted into a facsimile of June’s knot. She needed to talk to Teagan. He could sort her head straight.

“Come on then. Let’s get you lot settled in. Long day of riding tomorrow so.”

She led them into the Vigil. It had been three years since Ethelan had left the fortress to defend Amaranthine, and it was finally starting to appear hospitable again. Many portions of the Vigil still lay in ruins, and excavation of the collapsed under-sections was slow-going, but the courtyard and main wings were clear. More importantly, they were habitable and structurally sound. The growing ranks of Fereldan Wardens kept their dorms along the upper hallways of the keep. Just recently, however, they had completed construction on the lower guest rooms.

One by one, she lodged her visitors off in adjacent rooms. Bron hugged her tight before settling in for the night, promising to catch up in the morning. Teagan said something asinine and proper, but when Alistair looked away, gave her a significant look. She smirked almost imperceptibly and bid him goodnight.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. She clenched her fists at her sides.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“For what? Agreeing to Eamon’s plan or giving you a room for the night?”

“Uh, both,” he said. He fidgeted with his hands. “I- thank you. How are you? I… miss you. I mean, not like that- ah, Maker.” He sighed. “What I mean is, I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to catch up.”

She tried to smile and settled for a grimace. “Goodnight, Alistair.”

“Goodnight, Ethelan.” He hesitated a moment longer, gazing at her with sad eyes, and then shook his head and retired to his room for the night.

Ethelan’s breaths rattled through her chest as she stood statuesque in the corridor. When she could finally will her legs to move again, she slipped into Teagan’s room and collapsed against the door to close it. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth and tilted her chin towards the ceiling. Teagan wavered in front of her.

“Is it alright for me to touch you?” he asked. She nodded. He wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him and breathed deeply and tried to let the warmth in.

Her head swam, and tears pricked at her eyes. She buried her face in his chest.

He pressed a sweet kiss into the crown of her head. “You should get some rest, my dear,” he murmured. “It’s late.”

“Maker, after a month of nothing, tonight is too much.” She wiped her eyes with the meat of her hand. “I’m so glad to see you again, vhenan. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he murmured. He tilted her chin up and kissed her. “Are you alright? You look… grey.”

She sniffled and smiled through the tears. “Alistair. He caught me by surprise. I love you, but I didn’t expect him, and I wasn’t ready. I… don’t do so well on my own, when it’s just me and Nathaniel in Amaranthine. It makes me think that Alistair should be here with me, and then I start thinking about Alistair, and… I miss him. I miss seeing him every day. It’s already so awful here all the time, Teagan. And Maker, all this Bannorn nonsense? Teagan, what are we going to do?”

“Our best,” he said. “We’ll go to Denerim and I’ll handle the politics. You just go in there and do what you do best.”

“What’s that?”

“Be wonderful,” he said. He smirked. “I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that Fereldan politics is just shouting at each other until someone concedes. You get the nobles on our side, and I’ll do the shouting.”

She giggled. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”

He pressed his lips into her hair and stared ahead at the wall. “Mm, I’ve missed you too. Redcliffe is dreadfully dull without you.”

“Amaranthine is dreary and depressing,” she said. “But it’s a little better with you. There’s just one problem, though.”

“What’s that, my dear?”

“I’ve forgotten what your lips taste like.”

He smiled and pulled back to look at her. “We can’t have that. Come here.”

He leaned in and kissed her and it was everything she had yearned for over the past month. She could already see the sun rising above the Vigil in the morning. She felt his skin beneath her fingers, so much better than vellum and so much sweeter than letters. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, a sleepy, punch-drunk smile on his lips.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered.

She tilted her chin and caught his lips again. “Well, since you asked so politely.”

 _I love you_ was the only thought on her mind all night, and the only dream she had. He was not whiskey, but he acted so much like it; he was intoxicating, and when she placed him to her lips, she forgot all that had troubled her in the moments before. Best of all, lying in his arms, she was certain he would never ask her to leave, and would never let her go.

He was, as it were, exactly what she needed.

 

Quest updated:

**The Bannorn Will Not Bow**

Several banns and arls are upset at the Grey Warden’s interference in Redcliffe. Alistair wants Ethelan to soothe some sore feelings in Denerim.

 

When she awoke, the stress of last night was gone from Ethelan’s mind. She snuck out of Teagan’s room before anyone noticed where she had spent the night, leaving him with a quick sleepy kiss and the promise that she would see him later. She went about her business as usual, sharing breakfast with the Wardens and tossing a stick around her room for Fenlathal as she dressed for travel. Nathaniel had not been pleased by news of their last-minute trip to Denerim, but he had not argued. She could hear him clunking around in the next room over, packing a bag for the road.

She pulled Ser Pounce-a-lot from her pack for the third time, shouldered her inventory, and headed out toward the main hall. Yellow sunlight streamed in through the corridor windows, and the air smelled like sawdust and cement. The clatter of reconstruction filled the Vigil. Wardens, soldiers, builders, and arling volunteers worked tirelessly day and night to rebuild Vigil’s Keep to its former glory, and then some. She breathed in deeply through her nose. The noise soothed her nowadays. It followed her around as a constant reminder of where she was and what she was doing.

The main hall, now returned to its more or less original state, held few occupants that morning. Ethelan caught sight of Bron perusing the bookshelves. She made a beeline for her friend, only to be intercepted by Seneschal Garavel. Varel had died three years ago in the assault. The new seneschal however, was just as used to holding the arlessa’s reins.

“Good morning, Warden-Commander,” he said. “You are departing for Denerim today?”

“You can hold down the fort, right, seneschal?” she grinned, clapping him on the arm.

“As I always do,” he said. He nodded. “King Alistair is waiting in the courtyard. Speak to him when you’re ready to leave. I suggest rounding up those who you intend to take with you before you do.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” They nodded to each other and went their separate ways.

Bron was tracing her finger along the spines of the library, eyes bored and unseeing. Ethelan folded her hands in front of herself and cleared her throat. Bron spun around, and her eyes softened when she saw Ethelan.

“Warden-Commander,” she greeted. “You’ve got quite the collection of books here.”

“They’re mostly donations,” Ethelan confessed. “Do you read much? I’m working my way through a Varric Tethras novel right now.”

“I didn’t peg you for much the reading type,” Bron chuckled. “You’re so restless. I envy your energy.”

“I’m a busy woman,” Ethelan said. “It helps to keep moving.”

“I bet.”                                     

“It’s so wonderful to see you again,” Ethelan said. “But I admit, I’m a tad surprised you’re here right now.”

“Truth be told, I didn’t think the arl would ask me to come,” Bron said. “But he said he needed me, and I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to see my sister. Which leads me to something I’d like to speak to you about.” She frowned. “I talked to Eirian earlier. I don’t think she’s doing too well. All this settling in to the Wardens – she seems… I dunno. Dissatisfied? She says she’s only gone out into the field a few times. I’m worried she’s wilting from being cooped up in Vigil’s Keep all the time.”

Ethelan chewed her bottom lip. “Eirian’s a good mage, but we’ve got a lot of new recruits right now. That means she’s not getting as much action as she probably expected.”

“But is she doing alright?” Bron pressed. “Has she seemed sad? Angry? Scared? I’m concerned for her, Warden-Commander. What Haman did to her… you don’t just bounce back from that. She needs time. I just don’t know if she’s getting any better sitting around here magicking up bricks and such. I know I can’t ask anything more of you, but if you had time to talk to her before we leave, I’d really appreciate it. Just so… I dunno… just so she knows someone’s looking out for her?”

“Sure, Bron,” Ethelan said. “Of course. I’ll talk to her before I go.”

Bron sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you, Warden-Commander. I owe you too much. I’ll see you on the road to Denerim. You’ll have my sword, you and Arl Teagan both. It’ll be just like it was in Redcliffe, yeah?”

“You bet,” Ethelan said, punching Bron’s arm. “You’ve been holding up well?”

“Alright,” Bron shrugged. “I’m staying busy. It’s the only way to make it through. It’s good to see you and the Warden-Constable again, though. After all we’ve been through together, I’ll take any action standing at your sides. I don’t regret what we did in Lothering. I’m proud to defend it.”

“That’s the spirit, Bron,” Ethelan said. “Grab life by the balls so. I’m so glad you’re doing well.”

Bron smirked. “Speaking of which… Not to be crass, but I noticed you in the arl’s room last night.”

Ethelan threw up her hands. “Is nothing sacred with you people?”

“Didn’t mean nothing by it,” Bron grinned. “Just happy to see you’re still going strong. He’s a good man. You deserve each other. But enough chit-chat, right, Warden-Commander? I’ll see you on the road.”

Ethelan let herself return the grin. “Alright, Bron. I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

Quest updated:

**Talk to Eirian**

Bron expressed some concern that her sister is not adjusting well to the Grey Wardens. Speak to Eirian in Vigil’s Keep before going to Denerim.

 

Ethelan left the conversation. Bron turned back to inspecting the books aimlessly. Admittedly, Ethelan had not thought enough about Eirian since she undertook her Joining. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the past month, though Ethelan had tried to keep an eye on her as much as she could. Still, she knew the mage well enough to consider her a friend. Eirian was quiet – convicted like Bron, but solitary. She would undoubtedly be in her dorm. 

Ethelan returned the way she came, climbing the stairs and turning down the dormitory wing. Ethelan’s chambers were at the end of the hall, next to Nathaniel’s. Despite the large rooms offered to them on account of their positions, Nathaniel had agreed to a disappointingly low number of slumber parties over the past few years. She wasn’t too cut up about it; she’d trap him yet.

Eirian’s dorm was close to the front of the corridor. Ethelan stopped in front of Eirian’s room and rapped her knuckles on the door. After a few moments of complete silence, she knocked again, louder this time, and leaned her head against the door.

“Eirian? Are you in there? Open up.”

She waited, and, after a moment, she heard muffled shuffling on the other side. The door opened, and Eirian stared blankly down at Ethelan. Her hair was tangled and her uniform was rumpled. The dark circles under her puffy red eyes glowered a deep purple. She gestured Ethelan inside.

She shared the room with three other new Wardens, and her space was the messiest. Clothes lay strewn on her bed and desk in careless piles. Papers crept in a crumpled line from the foot of her bed to her desk chair. She stood by her bunk, dark eyes following Ethelan as she strode to the window to look out over the workers far below.

“How are you doing, Eirian?” Ethelan started.

Eirian gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Alright,” Ethelan said. “Is anything bothering you?”

Eirian’s lip quivered. She collapsed onto her bed, clutching her head in her hands. Her shoulders heaved with silent sobs. Ethelan startled and leapt to her side.

“I shouldn’t have become a Grey Warden,” Eirian wailed into her hands. Her voice was hoarse and pinched, as if she had been crying a while before Ethelan found her. “This was a mistake.”

“Oh, Eirian,” Ethelan sighed. She wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “That’s not true.”

“I wish I could just go off into the Deep Roads to die already,” Eirian continued. “Then this would all be over with.”

“No,” Ethelan growled. She rubbed Eirian’s arm. “You’re not dying on my watch. As your Commander, I expressly forbid it. Do you need to talk about it? I’m always here for you. You can talk to me, Eirian.”

Eirian shrugged away from Ethelan. “I can’t ask you that, Warden-Commander. I just want to die.”

“Well, you’re not gonna die,” Ethelan said. “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s bothering you? I’m not asking as your Commander. I’m asking as your friend. Your sister said she talked to you. What did you tell her?”

Eirian turned her head away. “She’s so strong,” she sobbed. “She was always the brave one. I don’t know how she’s just going about her life after that _bastard._ I can’t do that. I can’t- I can’t just pretend everything’s _fine_. It’s _not_ fine. I’m not okay. I want to stop _hurting_ , Warden-Commander.”

Ethelan laid her hand on top of Eirian’s. “We all deal with our pain in different ways. You can’t expect yourself to cope the same way Bron does. I may not know you as well as your sister does, but we agree that it’s not good for you to be cooped up in here. Why don’t you come outside? It’s a beautiful day.”

“No,” she wailed. She curled in on herself and began rocking back and forth. Her words came out choked and sobbing. “I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to-” She jerked away suddenly, snarling. Wet rage burned in her eyes. Her fists clenched, and trails of purple smoke snaked up from between her fingers. “They deserve to pay for this. _They_ made me this way. _Haman_ , and all those other bandits. Tell me Arl Teagan has slaughtered them for their crimes.”

“I don’t know what’s become of the bandits,” Ethelan hazarded, searching Eirian’s face. “You can ask him, if you like.”

Eirian held Ethelan in a steady gaze. “I want to fight darkspawn, Warden-Commander. I request leave to go into the field.”

Ethelan frowned. “That’s a quick change of heart. Eirian, I’m not sure if living out revenge fantasies is going to be helpful.”

“The Blight caused all this in the first place,” Eirian argued. “I joined the Grey-Wardens to fight the darkspawn. Let me do this.”

Ethelan bit her lip. Eirian was too unstable to be trusted to perform her duties responsibly. She needed to be watched and cared for. She couldn’t get what she needed isolated deep beneath the earth with only her company and the roving hordes of darkspawn. She needed time. She needed space. She needed the benefit of the doubt.  

“I have a better idea,” Ethelan said. “Me and Nathaniel are going on a diplomatic mission to Denerim. Why don’t you join us? I think it’ll be good for you. Bron’s going too. You two could spend some time together in between the Bannorn’s attempts to suck our souls out of our eyeballs. What do you say?”   

“I don’t want to waste time, Warden-Commander,” Eirian insisted. She squinted and clutched her head, tilting slightly to the side. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to lose some of her steam. “Ugh, but I feel terrible. Maybe you’re right. I could use the excitement. Even if it ain’t darkspawn, I still want to help.”

“Grand,” Ethelan smiled. She clapped Eirian on the back. “I think it’ll be good for you. Pack your bags, Eirian. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. No pressure.”

Eirian tested a shaky grin. “Very well then, Commander. I’ll join your party in Denerim. I just hope we won’t regret this.”

“Never,” Ethelan said. She rose to her feet. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah? You’re doing fine. I’m proud of you. And I’m happy you’re coming.”

Eirian simply smiled, shook her head, and began to draw in bundles of clothes around her. “Thank you, Warden-Commander,” she said. “For everything.”

 

Quest completed:

**Talk to Eirian**

Eirian decided to join the party.

             

Ethelan left Eirian to her preparation and wandered down the stairs back into the main hall. She paused briefly to inform Bron of her sister’s decision, and then made her way out into the courtyard. The brisk spring sun shone brightly on Vigil’s Keep. All around, the fortress was in motion. Companies ran training in the shadow of construction as merchants made trade with passing visitors. By the gate, she spotted Alistair and Teagan in deep discussion. She repressed the knot twisting in her stomach and shrugged her pack on her shoulders. She could do this, damnit. All it took was one foot in front of the other.

As she made her way down towards the gate, she passed by a company running archery practice. Nathaniel stood stone-still assessing them with Fenlathal sitting beside him in perfect imitation. She cracked a smile and sidled up next to them, watching the arrows soar through the air in clean arcs.

“They’re looking good,” she commented. She craned her neck and called to one of the Wardens. “Karrid, stop hunching your shoulder. Yes, just like that. Good form! Looks fine!”

“It’s strange to think we were once some of the only Grey Wardens in Vigil’s Keep,” Nathaniel said. He shifted his weight to lean on one leg. “I can’t believe how much the order has grown in just three years.”

“It keeps me awake a lot less, I’ll say that much,” Ethelan said. “It’s a relief to see the Order thriving. The thought of fighting darkspawn with only you and Oghren is more terrifying than dealing with the Bannorn.”

Nathaniel glanced over at her. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with all this court business? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re just about the worst ruler this arling has ever seen, and I’m not just saying that as a Howe. I’m not sure you should be wrapped up in politics like this. There’s too much at stake here.”

Fenlathal growled. Nathaniel let out an exasperated sigh.

“I wasn’t insulting her,” he argued. “I’m simply speaking my mind. Don’t take that tone with me.”

Fenlathal muttered a skeptical snuffle.

“Easy, boy,” Ethelan said, reaching down to pet Fenlathal between his ears. “Nate’s just being a big meanie, isn’t he.” Fenlathal slobbered her hand in response. She shrugged at Nathaniel. “Yes, well, I’m a Warden-Commander, not a lady. You’re a lot more knowledgeable on this stuff than me. You can help me muddle through this. That’s one of the reasons I want you with me.”

“Commander, I don’t know as much as you think I do,” Nathaniel protested. “I don’t think I was ever going to inherit the arling. I received training as a squire, not as a nobleman.” He scoffed, something akin to panic rising in his voice. “Commander, I really don’t think I’m the best man for the job.”

Ethelan shrugged again. “Then I guess we’re lucky Teagan’s there, eh? I _want_ you to come with me, regardless. Are you not even a little bit pleased, deep, deep down, that you get to play nobleman again?”

“I like my life with the Grey Wardens,” Nathaniel said. “To be honest, I don’t really desire the arling. I don’t have the patience for politics.” He frowned. “I’ll do my best. I… hope that’s enough.”

She smiled at him. “Of course it’s enough. I want you there as my friend, as well as my Constable. You’re _always_ enough, Nate.”

He gave her a weird look. “Um, thank you?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m in support mode today.” She laughed and twirled one of her blonde mats. “I should help Oghren sort his life out. If I get him just the right level of drunk, he’ll cry into his beard all night about his kid.”

Nathaniel grimaced. “I really don’t want to see that. Before we leave, there is one other matter I’d like to discuss. I think it’s best we do so here.”

“If this has anything to do with Teagan, Nathaniel, I swear on Andraste’s saggy nipples-”

“Save your breath,” Nathaniel said. “That wasn’t what I was going to say. Although, now that you mention it…”

“No,” she said.

He smirked. “Suit yourself. What I wanted to say was, as your Constable, I have some concerns about how you’re running the Order. Namely, our involvement with Fereldan politics. I’ve been thinking a lot about this over the past month, and this business with the Bannorn has made me come to a decision. I understand you often act not as Commander of the Grey, but as arlessa, but I can’t help but feel we’ve crossed the line with Redcliffe. I’m sure we’ll hear that claim in Denerim, so I wanted to prepare you ahead of time.”

Ethelan tapped her foot. Fenlathal boofed at a stray arrow. “Noted. Elaborate.”

“The Grey Wardens are a neutral organization,” Nathaniel continued. “We’re not really supposed to get involved with things like arling militias and petty wars. The more I think about it, the more I don’t feel good about what we did in Redcliffe.”

“What would you have me do?” Ethelan asked. “I’m in a weird position. I have too much power, but if I don’t use it, people get upset.”

“Right now, let’s just get through Denerim,” Nathaniel said. “We may even have time to figure something out while we’re there. The nobles _will_ use this against you, though. Just be prepared for trouble, is all I’m saying.”

Ethelan nodded. “Noted. Things were different during the Blight. I guess I’ve never adjusted to the normal situation. Things have calmed down now… I suppose the Order that Ferelden needs is not the one it needed three years ago. Ach, this is so much to think about on top of the rest of this nonsense… I’ll think on what you said. Thanks for keeping me checked, Nate.”

“You’re welcome. If anything, it’s something to consider as we travel.”

“Just one more thing to juggle, I guess,” Ethelan said. She elbowed him. “You’re a good friend, Nate.”

He huffed and turned his gaze towards the archers, smiling slightly. “As are you. I’m glad we could talk before we left. Are you all set to leave?”

“Just waiting on Eirian,” Ethelan said. “She’s coming with us now. Just like old times. That is to say, last month.”

“Bron will like that,” Nathaniel smiled. He crossed his arms. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are, Commander. Just say the word.”

Ethelan scratched Fenlathal behind the ears one last time before leaving Nathaniel to his work. With no more errands to run around the Vigil, she would have to face Alistair and Teagan. It would be better in the daylight. She was ready. She steeled herself and walked toward the gate where Alistair stood, his armor shining coldly in the morning sun.

As she drew nearer, Ethelan felt a smile curving on her lips. Alistair had cradled in his arms a grumpy lump of orange fur, who was doing his best not to look pleased with the attention. Teagan was smiling at Ser Pounce-a-lot, and, to Ethelan’s vague horror, rubbing the little menace’s head.

“Who’s a cute kitty?” Alistair cooed. “You are! You are!”

Ethelan approached the two men. Upon seeing her, Ser Pounce-a-lot wiggled out of Alistair’s arms and walked between her legs, rubbing his body against her boots. She reached down to scoop him up in one fluid motion, and he melted in her arms like a dollop of butter, purring and shooting pointed glances at the two men.

“I have no idea how you managed to pet him without getting scratched,” she said, “but he seems to like you. He hasn’t been that friendly with anyone but me since Anders left.” At the mention of his former owner, Ser Pounce-a-lot mewed hopefully. Ethelan rubbed his head gently. “Sorry, buddy. He’s probably not coming back.”

“Are you allowed to keep a pet cat?” Teagan asked. “Wouldn’t it be dangerous for him in the field?”

“Ser Pounce-a-lot is tough,” Ethelan said. “He once swatted a genlock on the nose. And besides, I’m the Commander of the Grey. I decide whether I’m allowed to have pets or not. I mean, I’ve already got a mabari. The more the merrier. Did you ever have a cat, Teagan?”

“I used to torment the barn cats back in Ansburg,” Teagan laughed. “My cousin Cador and I would poke them until they attacked us. I’ve still got the scars to prove it.”

She rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Where?”

“My arm,” he said coolly, with a sidelong glance at Alistair. “I’ve faced worse opponents than an angry tabby since then. Much more interesting scars.” He cleared his throat. “Have you gathered your companions, my lady?”

“Besides Bron, I’m bringing Nathaniel and Eirian,” she said.

“It’s good the Warden-Constable is coming,” he said. “His position may earn him respect, and the stronger our testimonies, the better chance we have of actually succeeding. And I’m sure Lady Bron will be pleased to be with her sister. With any luck, we can be in and out of the capital in no time.”

“Eager to get back to Redcliffe? How uncharacteristic of you,” she teased.

“More like eager to avoid arguing with the Bannorn,” he said. He sighed. “No matter. We got ourselves into this mess. It’s only fitting we deal with the consequences. We’ll speak more on the road, my lady. Talk to Alistair if you’re ready to leave.”

“I’m right here,” Alistair protested. “Maker, it’s like you can’t talk to more than one person at a time. Like some invisible force is keeping you from meshing conversations. Ha, that’d be weird.” He turned to Ethelan. “Anyway, my de- Ethelan. My-y-y Ethelan. Commander, Ethelan. Right. Ahem. Are you ready to go?”

Ethelan smiled tightly. “Just waiting on my companions.”

“Right then,” Alistair said. “Off to Denerim. If we’re lucky, we’ll get there before the nobles tear the place apart. Oh, did I say lucky? I meant unlucky.”

Ethelan forced a hollow laugh. “But that would deny you the fun of dealing with the Bannorn!”

“Oh, _fun_ ,” Alistair said. “Is that what we’re calling it now? You always do have such a way with words. Look, the sooner all this is over and done with the better. I don’t like this any more than you do.”

Ethelan sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll just blame Eamon for this one and let you off the hook.”

“Yes, do that,” Alistair said. “Because, like I said, this was _not_ my idea. Now that we’ve established that, you won’t be mad at me if things turn sour, right?”

“I’ll try not to stick pins in your effigy,” Ethelan said.

He shuddered. “Thank the Maker. Oh, I think I see your companions heading this way. Shall we get ready to go?”

Ethelan shouldered her pack. Her feet itched to leave the Vigil, even if it meant balancing politics and her feelings for Alistair. Besides, Teagan was with her. He would do a fine job helping her in both those aspects. And maybe, just maybe, they could find time to do more than that. What was the use of getting over Alistair if she couldn’t have a little fun with the recovery?

That was assuming they survived court and didn’t accidentally draw a civil war. Knowing herself and her luck, Ethelan projected a fifty-fifty chance that something horrible would go wrong. At least nothing could be worse than the Blight.

“Let’s get this adventure started,” she said. “Lead the way, Alistair. Take us to our doom.”

“What can I say? Your wish is my command,” Alistair said, and they gathered their party and ventured forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: next update ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
